OCW Presents: Mayhem on the Midway
LIVE! Monday, September 10th 2018
From the OCW Theme Park
Located in Aurora, Ohio

~A dilapidated, aged, antiquated theme park is shown. Remnants of once vibrant, colorful accoutrements add to the already depressing aura. Pieces of ramshackled roller coasters and decrepit food kiosks line a filthy, dirty, dusty main street. A once lively main street with families spending spare change most could not afford to whisk away into a happier world for a temporary lapse from the inane day to day that pulls so many of them down. A breeze powers its way through, rattling window shutters and tossing old dead leaves hither and yon. The wind threatens to defeat the last bastion of stability keeping each building, coaster, stand erect~

~Hood and Smith are apparently seeing the exact same dystopian wasteland we’ve been witnessing. What a way to kick off a PPV, right? 2018 OCW BABY. An image steps out onto main street. We’re not sure where this image came from – it just appeared. It’s the image of Mack O’Connor~

Smith: Mack O’Connor is here!

Hood: Probably showed up to burn this fucking thing to the ground

~Mack looks around and frowns. He spits toward the ground. The spit, for some reason, never makes contact with the ground. Another figure appears in our peripheral. We turn and see The Marvel! He looks around with an expression that seems to say “Well, I don’t know what we were all expecting.” He’s got the OCW Title around his waist. Mack approaches Meyhu. Meyhu stands with confidence, urging the challenger to head his way~

~A loud SNAP sounds into the distance. Mack and Meyhu, several feet from one another, turn and look in the direction of the commotion. A ride featuring miniature little rockets is slowing down. Someone had attempted to turn the archaic ride back to life and, well, it croaked. One rocket broke off from the arm keeping it in the air and descended with reckless abandon. Among the wreckage pops OCW Craze Champion Ed Houston! ‘I’M OKAY!’ he shouts! He motions that the ride is closed to, well, nobody in particular. “HEY KID!” the champ calls out. Ed looks up and waves. We spot the Craze Title around his waist. Meyhu waves him over. Ed hustles toward the only other title holder in the company~

Smith: What’s going on? Are Ed and Meyhu joining forces?

Hood: I didn’t even know they liked each other. Man…this is really going to hurt Meyhu’s stock. Just standing next to that guy is a liability

Smith: I wouldn’t say that! Ed’s one of our best!

~Houston struts next to Meyhu. Together they stand with their pelvis’ thrust forward…is it intentional or merely a subconscious habit? We don’t know. Regardless, they are showing off their gold. Mack shakes his head and snaps his fingers. From behind steps Mike Harrison. Harrison looks at Ed and motions for the title with a smirk. Houston takes a step back, surprised that Harrison just sort of appeared~

~Meyhu looks at Ed. Ed nods. They are ready. Mack and Harirson clinch their fists. They, too, are ready. Screams are heard off screen. The four men pause. The screams are, dare I say, blood curdling! Faceless people rush from a building with illegible words worn across the façade. It doesn’t appear to be a fun attraction. In fact, it appears to be the very opposite. A body is thrown from a window. It lies on the cracked pavement outside the devastated building. The door to the building is kicked off its hinges. Axel Veiga steps out. He pauses, pulling down on each glove. He sees the four OCW stars standing in the middle of the street and heads their way. He sizes up Mack and Harrison. He sizes up Meyhu and Ed. He sees gold. He stands next to the two champs. Meyhu reaches to pat Veiga on the back saying “Smart choice.” However, a look from Veiga keeps Meyhu’s hands to himself~

Smith: And now Veiga joins the fray! No surprise he’s siding with the champions. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Hood

Hood: Guy is going to be a champion by the end of…well, whatever this is. I know it!

Smith: I believe Andrea Hernandez will have something to say about that

Hood: Who?

Smith: HER!

~Mack extends his right hand. A bottle of Jameson is placed in his palm by Andrea Hernandez who has, suddenly appeared at his side. Meyhu looks at Ed who returns the nonplussed expression. Meyhu says “Seriously, what’s the deal?” Ed echoes “Yea, what’s the deal!” Veiga keeps an icy gaze on Andrea~

Smith: And Mack conjures up another partner. For every ally Meyhu attracts it seems as though Mack has a counter

Hood: I don’t like this, Smith. Abandoned theme park that Zybala never fixed up. Haunted ghost like shit going on. I thought the Halloween event was AFTER this one. It’s only September!

Smith: I don’t know what to tell you…I’m still figuring this out myself

~A few half naked women scream and run down the street. They are running for their lives!! They head for the entrance of the gate. It’s warped with bent bars and patches of ivy growing all around. They fight their way through to get away from what…whatever it is that’s bothered them. A loud voice answers that question. “I TOLD YOU NOT IN THE FUCKING ASS!” Iggy Hardy BURSTS through the side of an attraction called “The Love Moat.” He stands with a neon blue thong covering his delicates. He’s naked everywhere else aside from a sweet pair of early 90s shades. His muscles glisten and flex. He looks around, furious. “WHAT THE FUCK!” He yells for some reason. The guy just likes to scream obscenities. Meyhu looks at Ed. Ed shakes his head ‘no’. Meyhu nods ‘yes’. They argue a bit. Iggy picks up on the bickering. “I told you to do it,” Meyhu says. “But I don’t want to! You do it!” Ed fights back. Meyhu snaps his fingers. A giant bag of Colombia’s finest appears in Ed’s hands. “Shit!” Ed says, spotting Iggy’s favorite snack in his grasp. Iggy’s head instantly jerks in the direction of the powder. “FUCK YES!” he yells, sprinting forward like a raging bull! Ed yells and instinctively throws the bag in the air. Iggy leaps up and catches it with his teeth! He stands next to Veiga with the bag of coke in his mouth. He breathes heavily. Each intake of oxygen carries with it a solid dose of cocaine~

Smith: Well, that’s one way to lure Iggy in

Hood: The only way…I wonder what those women did. You think they snuck a finger or two in Iggy’s…

Smith: I don’t know…I don’t CARE

Hood: I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things, ya know? The BOTTOM

Smith: Not funny

~Mack sighs. It seems as though he’s growing tired with having to constantly conjure backup. He looks up into the sky and takes a giant swig of whiskey. A loud crack of thunder sounds out with a bolt of lightning hitting the ground. Smoke flares up, along with dust. Once it clears we see The Lost Soul! He stands next to Andrea. He looks at Iggy who continues to breathe/snort cocaine~

Smith: What an entrance!

Hood: TLS is Thor! Or, at least Asgardian, right?

Smith: I’m a DC fan

Hood: MARTHA!

~Meyhu complains under his breath about how HE should be the one with the power to summon people. He seems only capable of summoning cocaine. But, whatever. It appears as though they are FINALLY ready. That is until the entire scene is filled with MARGARITAVILLE by Jimmy Buffett! The eight OCW stars pause and look around, wondering where the hell this music is coming from. Three giant margarita glasses hang in the air. Two of them turn over and pour green margarita juice toward the ground. The juice never makes it to the ground. Instead, the liquid fills the invisible silhouettes of Rhodes and Langston on one end of the street and Syren with Canon on the other. The third glass seems to be malfunctioning. It disappears. Two blank silhouettes...one of a woman, the other of a man fizzle out. The other two glasses disappear and we’re left with two of the final three teams in the Mix. Houston looks up at Meyhu like “Seriously?” Meyhu responds with “Well, at least the juice was lime”~

Smith: And the Mix teams are here!

Hood: Anybody else? Anybody else want to magically appear?

Smith: I think this is probably it, Hood. It seems the Emery glass malfunctioned

Hood: Well, that can't be good

Smith: I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. They will give a hearty performance later on...if we ever get to that portion of the program

Hood: Chekhov's Margarita Glass

~Syren and Canon step forward. Canon hops up and down grabbing on Syren’s arm, trying to persuade him on which side to choose. Syren heads straight for THE CHAMP. There is no indecision. He gets up in the champ’s face. Canon gets in Ed’s face, to mimic the actions of his partner/hero. Meyhu puffs out his chest. For the first time in his OCW career he’s the shorter man. He gets up in Syren’s face. The two embark on an epic stare down…which would be more epic if Syren weren’t wearing shades. Ed and Houston do the same…but they look up every so often to see if Syren and Meyhu are still staring at each other. Canon has a look as if to say “When is this going to end?”~

Smith: Look at this! Two of OCW’s greatest legends staring one another down!

Hood: I bet Syren has blinked at least fifteen times

Smith: Why would you say that?

Hood: As a fuck you to Meyhu. He’s wearing shades…he can blink as much as he wants. He can have fucking turrets of the eye lids and still out stare a man without shades

Smith: So you’re calling him a cheater

Hood: Whatever gets the job done!

~Syren turns around, pointing his back at Meyhu. Canon does the same to Ed and they stand with Mack. Meyhu nods, feeling the sting of Syren’s disrespect. He says, “Fine, that’s fine.” He turns and spots Langston and Rhodes, who remain on the sidelines. “Whoever takes that old man and his little friend out gets a title shot!” Meyhu declares. Rhodes looks up at Langston, who nods. Together they stand with Meyhu – but on the complete opposite side from Veiga. The sides are set. War is ready~

Smith: And it’s time!

Hood: Are we having some type of WarGames match? Has the entire program been changed at the last minute because, if so, that’s just a lesson in why you never prepare for shit

Smith: I hope not…but if that’s where we’re going, I’ll adjust!

~A bell sounds off in the distance. All the competitors hop around and limber up. Iggy takes a massive inhalation of narcotics. They are set to clash into each other in an epic brawl! That is…until a loud ROAR is heard. It paralyzes all the competitors. They look around, confused~

Smith: What the heck was THAT?!

Hood: I…I don’t know…it sounded

Smith: It sounds like a monster

~The ground shakes. The buildings begin to crumble. All twelve wrestlers brace. Another loud ROAR is heard. A building explodes as a giant figure stomps its way into the street~

Smith: Is that…could it be?!

Hood: What the fuck!

Smith: It’s the infamous DRAGONZORD!!!

~Indeed it is the famed metallic dragon from some television show I never bothered to watch as a child. It stands in the middle of the street and ROARS a third time. Meyhu shakes his head and says “Oh no, not again.” The other wrestlers prepare. All twelve competitors seem to unite to face a common foe. The Dragonzord stomps toward them…they all shake. The LOVE MOAT crumbles to the ground. Ed’s rocket ride cracks and falls away. The situation is hopeless. The Dragonzord is bearing down on them until a blinding rush of light hits it in the eyes~

Voice: AHHH!!!

~All twelve wrestlers blink and twitch until they vanish completely from the setting. The Dragonzord falls cumbersomely to its side~

Voice: My eyes!!

Voice: Mr. Zybala

Zybala: WHAT?!

Voice: Are you…are you okay, sir?

Zybala: What did I say about knocking?!

Voice: Sorry, sir. Did you get the hologram machine working?

Zybala: Yes, it’s working fine. Is that what’s so urgent? I was in the middle of something important!

Voice: No sir, sorry sir. I was just told to get you…it’s time.

Zybala: It’s time?

Voice: Yes sir…the show is ready to begin.

Zybala: Well then. Let’s get started!

~Zybala stands upright and clears his throat. He keeps his eyes lowered from the sun and follows the OCW employee out of his office and into the LIGHT. He leaves behind an intricate set piece featuring a dilapidated theme park, a still running hologram machine and a very used and abused Dragonzord action figure~

Smith: Well, that explains it

Hood: Should have fucking known

~Our view follows Zybala out of his office which turns out to be a trailer. It’s elevated from all the other trailers. It overlooks the OCW Theme Park. He pauses and looks out over his idea which has been given life~

Zybala: It’s wonderful

~We fly over Zybala’s head and down, over the theme park. It is, indeed, a sight to behold. There is a massive line at the front gates, which are devoid of any foliage. They are shiny and stylish with all up to date technology. Main street is littered with excited customers holding tickets to the event. The smell of popcorn fills the air. Stores are open for business featuring every item Tony the Spider has ever advertised. And the rides, oh man, the rides~

Smith: He did it, Hood! He did it!

Hood: Ugh…

Smith: This is where you congratulate the man and admit you were wrong

Smith: Nope, but we do have characters to meet and greet the fans! Owlie the Owl is down there! A life sized Checkers!

Hood: Who’s that guy in the bunny suit?

Smith: THAT’S MUFFLES

Hood: Oh, my bad

Smith: This place is amazing! There’s the Professor’s House of Knowledge.

~We see a building with nobody near it~

Smith: I’m sure it will pick up

Hood: People don’t come to theme parks to learn!

Smith: And way there in the back we’ve got the ultimate. It’s simply called The Marvel. A lime green spectacle among spectacles. The biggest, baddest roller coaster ever created

Hood: Yea, I rode it twice. Passed out three times

Smith: I’m not sure it’s entirely safe…but it is thrilling!

Hood: You can say that again! Just hit up Mack’s Saloon for some liquid courage and you’ll be a-okay. That or you’ll die with no worries

Smith: And there…right in the hub near the back of the park. With The Marvel to the back left and Syren’s Carny Games to the back right…we have the arena with the ring set up for tonight’s event!

Hood: Fuckin sweet

~We see a giant stage at the back of the park. Four huge screens hang above the stage. The stage features a wrestling ring. Surrounding the stage is a bowl of stands, large enough to occupy thousands of fans. The seats are beginning to fill in rapid fashion. In the back there is walk way for the wrestlers to enter. It is cut through a portion of the crowd. There is a gate at the end which gives access to the stage. The surface surrounding the ring is wood. There is no covering. Because we are bastards. At ringside is Belvedere and the time keeper. They are busy getting ready for the event. Aside from the gated walkway cutting through the crowd, there is no other way in or out of the stage. The first row of fans is high enough that the competitors are not able to reach them. The sides surrounding the theater are comprised of concrete. The concrete is shielded by thick, hard Plexiglas. We aren’t TOTAL bastards. We cut back to Smith and Hood~

Smith: The fans are filing in! The place is vibrant! People are enjoying themselves! We are set for a great evening! So sit back and get ready because Mayhem on the Midway starts NOW!

~The crowd is chanting “OCW! OCW!” They have been sitting in these bleachers for a while. It isn’t getting any cooler in Aurora. It’s been nearly two weeks since they had a match worth getting excited about. These fans are ravenous for some stout in ring action! Belvedere clears his throat. The place goes WILD~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…welcome to Mayhem on the Midway!!!

~More “OCW!” chants fill the arena. Belvedere waits, allowing the chants to subside before attempting to continue. They finally do~

Belvedere: It is now time for our opening contest of the evening! This is a semi-final re-match in the 2018 Margarita Mix Tag Team Tournament!! The winner of this contest will go on to face Melinda Rhodes and Vincent Langston in the finals later this evening. I am told that there MUST be a winner in this match! Introducing first…

~The crowd erupts! A ‘NO MORE DRAWS!’ chant takes over. Belvedere waits as the first team is about to make their entrance. "Wings of a Butterfly" by HIM hits! The crowd gives a strong reaction. It’s obvious they enjoy Amelia Emery. The men because, well, she’s fucking gorgeous. The women because, well, she’s a tough female who embodies the METOO movement…especially when facing the most sexist man in OCW history – Curt Canon. Amelia emerges from the back and pauses, taking in the scenery. It’s her first OCW PPV. The crowd is live. The fans are batshit crazy. The Marvel coaster is whooshing in the background. It’s a scene, man. She turns toward the curtain. Her brother, Lukas steps forward! The crowd cheers! Lukas and Amelia, side by side make their way toward the gate. Lukas opens the gate and allows Amelia to enter first. He follows right behind. Amelia walks up the ring steps while Lukas hops onto the apron. They enter through the ropes at the same time and play to the crowd. A solid “EMERY!” chant is ongoing~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 325lbs…Lukas and Amelia Emery…the Emery Siblings!!!

Smith: The Emery siblings teaming together tonight! What a moment!

Hood: I guess…I mean Amelia did go with Slappy over her brother. I think that says a lot, don’t you?

Smith: Lukas was going through some things

Hood: Either way…any time you pick SLAPPY MCGOO over your own brother…it doesn’t exactly scream “yea, I think highly of my bro”

~Amelia and Lukas find their corner and calmly await their opponents~

Belvedere: And, their opponents…

~”Figure 8 “by Trust Company hits. The crowd goes wild! There are a few boos that can be heard moments after the initial ovation…but they are few and far between. The OCW hall of famer, Curt Canon emerges from the back. He sprints toward the gate and hops over it, showing the spryness of a DareDevil. He hustles up to the ring and is about to slide in. However, he stops and waits~

Belvedere: From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 155lbs…he is a former OCW Champion and a current OCW Hall of Famer…he is…Curt Canon!!!

~Canon poses for the crowd outside the ring. His music dies down. A strong, hearty, willful ‘SYREN!’ chant begins to grow. It increases in volume after each round. The fans are in unison. They want to see the man. They want to see the legend. They want to see THE most famous wrestler in OCW history. They want to see Scott Syren~

Belvedere: And…his tag team partner…

~"Memo" by Young Thug begins to play. The entire crowd ERUPTS. We even catch riders on The Marvel go wild as the ride whooshes by. The curtain from the back is thrust apart as the largest arms in the history of greek mythology make their appearance. It is…SCOTT SYREN! The crowd is a mix of cheers and that “SYREN!” chant. He marches toward the gate and kicks it open. It nearly flies off the hinges. He steps up onto the wooden platform and finds his small friend and life partner…tag partner, Curt Canon~

Belvedere: From The Plain of Fear…standing 6’8 and weighing in at 287lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is a current OCW Hall of Famer…he is recognized by many as the greatest wrestler in OCW history…he is…Scott Syren!!!

~Syren and Canon hop onto the apron and enter the ring simultaneously. Belvedere exits the ring. Amelia and Lukas remain in their corner, conferring. Syren and Canon find their corner. Syren has his shades on while Canon is wearing his signature cheesy smile~

Smith: Syren looks genetically impressive, as always

Hood: I’m glad I wore a condom underneath these new shorts

Smith: Gross

Hood: Did I say that outloud?

~Lukas steps to the apron. Amelia is eager to start this match for her team. Canon looks at Syren and says “I got this” with the utmost confidence. Syren doesn’t argue. He stands on the apron with his shades on and stares into the ring – we assume. Canon remains inside. The bell rings and the fans stand on their feet with a huge ovation. Mayhem on the Midway is underway~

Smith: When was the last time Scott Syren opened an OCW PPV event?

Hood: 1876

Smith: Get serious

Hood: I am serious!

~Canon is making a joke at Amelia’s expense. He turns to retell it to Syren. While doing so Amelia runs up from behind and throws a butterfly kick into the back of his head!! Canon stumbles into the ropes. Amelia kips up. Canon bounces off the ropes and stumbles backward. Amelia leaps into the air with a dropkick that sends Canon through the ropes, onto the apron~

Smith: Curt had better start paying attention!

Hood: Typical female…stabbing the man in the back

Smith: It was a kick

Hood: FROM BEHIND

~Canon is quick to his feet more stunned that harmed. Amelia sprints across the ring. He shits the ropes, bounces off and charges at Canon. She dives at him through the ropes, for a spear. Canon catches the move in time and somersaults over the top rope with a Sunset Flip! He hooks his arms around her waist and tosses her back into the center of the ring. Canon pops to her feet instead of holding on for the pin. Amelia pops up, onto her ass and uses her hands to lift her body off the canvas. She whips her legs around, trying to take Canon’s legs out. Canon hops over them. He lands on both feet and steps up with a Shining Wizard right into the side of Amelia’s head! Emery falls to her side as Canon leans over, breathing heavily. He shakes his head, surprised over how fast paced and aggressive Amelia was to start out the match~

Smith: Amelia came out aggressive and for good reason.

Hood: She off her meds?

Smith: No

Hood: I’m just saying…the Emery family isn’t known for their sanity

Smith: She’s angry, Hood. Angry over their previous match…Amelia felt as though her team had that match won and now…now she’s forced to re-do the match all over again

Hood: Too bad so sad

~Syren looks over at Lukas. He scowls~

Smith: Interesting look on Syren’s face

Hood: He doesn’t like the look of Lukas Emery, apparently

Smith: Has he not done his research? Is this the first time he’s getting a look at the former Oh Shoot Contract Holder?

Hood: Fuck you’re lame…and it’s Syren. The only documents he reads are horribly written porn fanfic and Paul Krugman of the New York Times

~Syren hops off the apron. He calmly removes his shades and does a very steroid-like strut around the ring. Lukas looks inside the ring…he yells for Amelia to get up. Canon performs a Senton, slamming his body against Amelia’s, keeping her down. Syren rounds the corner and is now standing behind Lukas, who is unaware of his presence~

Smith: Scruff! Get Syren back into his team’s corner!

Hood: You think it’s the hair? Is Syren offended by the Emery’s hair?

Smith: I don’t know…all I know is this is a match and he needs to remain within the rules

~Syren reaches out and grabs the legs of Lukas. He yanks back…Lukas falls and smacks his face against the ring apron! The fans at ringside go wild! They’ve got SYREN FEVER. Syren picks Lukas up…he kicks him in the gut and hooks him for a powerbomb. He powerbombs Lukas right on top of the steps!! Lukas falls to his knees. He’s about to crash onto the floor…but Syren keeps him up with his food. Syren then delivers the devastating KICK TO THE HEAD! Lukas falls over, unconscious. Calmly, Syren heads back to his team’s corner. He grabs his shades and puts them back on his face. He stands on the apron and removes his scowl. For the moment, the world seems like a better place to Scott~

Smith: He just…he just demolished Lukas!

Hood: He’s not fucking around tonight. Guy must have received a super loaded dose of muscle enhancement

Smith: I demand we test him! After all these years…test that man!

Hood: There’s no need…he’s nowhere near the spectrum and has an IQ of 212

~Canon is chuckling in the ring. He obviously enjoyed what happened to Lukas. Amelia struggles to her feet, needing to make a tag. She reaches her team’s corner only to find Lukas on the floor, unconscious. She turns around, confused. She seeks Scruff. Instead, she receives a roaring ELBOW from Canon!! Amelia stumbles into the center of the ring. Curt hits the ropes…he bounces off and drops Amelia with The Chronicles End!!! He goes for the pin…the ravenous crowd counts along~

~We cut to the location for the House of Mirrors match. It’s a building to the far left of the OCW Theme Park. It’s been specifically erected for this contest. Fans are standing outside, waiting to get in. Each fan’s age is verified before they can enter. The building is black with red trim – CLASSIC OCW. We venture inside. A giant metal chained chamber resides with seating around it. The seating looks to hold a couple hundred fans. It’s very dark inside this building. Just enough light to move without tripping. A bright light shines over the chamber. There are six pods in the chamber. Three sides of the pods are covered with a thin, black metal layer. The front of the pod, which faces the ring, is made up of a mirror. These six pods surround the ring. The ring is a normal ring. There is a layer of hard, metal grating around the ring which enables to the wrestlers to get out of the ring and access the pods~

Smith: And there it is…the diabolical House of Mirrors

Hood: Shit’s about to get fucked up

Smith: In so many words, yes

~We hear Belvedere’s voice piped into the House of Mirrors while fans continue to file in~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the OCW Savage Championship! This is a House of Mirrors match! Inside the House of Mirrors are six mirrors. Behind each mirror resides a pod. Inside five of those pods is a unique weapon. The sixth pod contains the OCW Savage Championship. The first competitor to locate the pod with the Savage Championship and return it to the ring will be declared the winner and new OCW Savage Champion!

~The crowd goes wild. The crowd inside cheers, as well. It’s clear that their voices are going to bounce off the walls creating a SUPER loud experience~

Belvedere: Introducing first…

~The ICONIC Friday the 13th theme begins to play. The fans inside the House of Mirrors starts a TLS chant, for some reason. Call is nostalgia. Call it clown love. Maybe they all think this means there will be a guy painting faces afterwards…WHO KNOWS…but they are ready to see The Lost Soul in action. A spotlight shines outside the chamber illuminating a black curtain. It slowly peels to the side and The Lost Soul emerges. He’s calculating, as always, slowly making his way to the chamber, cautious and careful for an IGGY OUT OF NOWHERE. He enters and grabs onto the chained structure, ripping and yanking, finding the support to be acceptable. He walks across the metal grating before stepping into the ring. He faces one of the mirrors and finds his own reflection staring back~

Belvedere: From Parts Unknown, standing 6’3 and weighing in at 235lbs…he is a former OCW Ascension Champion…he is…The Lost Soul!!!

~The crowd gets even rowdier. It’s IGGY time! An “IGGY!” chant fills the House of Mirrors. TLS continues to eyeball his reflection. It’s like something is off but he can’t place it. Meanwhile, “Top of the World” by Van Halen continues to play with no Iggy in sight~

Smith: And we wait on the former Savage Champion to appear

Hood: You don’t think Welsh had the DEA bust into Iggy’s trailer before the match, do you?

Smith: I’d hope he’d be laying low after what Siobhan did to him a few weeks ago

Hood: You can’t keep a good Welsh down

~The “IGGY” chants subside. The fans are nonplussed. They wonder where the crazed maniac is. I mean he hasn’t been seen in over a month. Is he dead? Was this all a ruse? Then, it happens~

INTENSITY!!!

~Glass shatters!! Iggy Hardy BURSTS through the mirror TLS has been staring into, eviscerating his reflection!! Iggy stands atop the metal grating, breathing heavily. Severaly tiny pieces of glass are impaled within his oily, muscular chest. Tiny red streaks of blood run down from his shoulders and chest across his belly before dripping onto the metal grating. His mullet is in FULL FORCE. It, two, appears with a reddish hint. His scalp acquired some collateral damage as a result from the MIRROR SMASH. But, it doesn’t appear to have impacted the man’s intense desire to fuck shit up~

Belvedere: From Hawk’s Bluff, North Carolina…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 230lbs…he is a former OCW Savage Champion…he is…Iggy Hardy!!!

~Belvedere hustles like he’s never hustled before to get out of that chamber. He exits, the chamber is locked shut and the bell sounds~

Smith: Iggy Hardy ladies and gentlemen!

Hood: He doesn’t have a weapon

Smith: So?

Hood: Isn’t each pod supposed to contain a weapon?

Smith: Are you saying Iggy isn’t a weapon?

Hood: Ah, I see

~Iggy leaps into the air and balances on the top rope before spring boarding off. TLS moves out of the way and Iggy lands on his feet. He charges into the ropes, yelling at the top of his lungs. He bounces off, TLS flies into view with a Yakuza kick from the side. Iggy grabs The Lost Soul’s leg! He bounces around on one foot, caught. Iggy hoists TLS up by the leg, high into the air and slams him down into the mat with a spinebuster!!! The crowd pops! More Iggy chants fill the House of Mirrors~

Smith: Iggy Hardy off to a fast and suspicious start

Hood: Suspicious?

Smith: You don’t think he’s…enhanced?

Hood: Only by the natural drug known as ADRENALINE

~Iggy is back on his feet. He somersaults over the ropes, landing on the metal grating on the outside. He looks into an unbroken mirror. He sees his reflection and begins to grow a sizable boner underneath his trunks. His flexes his pecks. He points at his reflection and yells “SEXY MOTHER FUCKER!!” He charges at the mirror and runs right through it!! The mirror shatters! The crowd goes wild!!~

Smith: What is he DOING?!

Hood: It’s Iggy…he’s like a super gritty indie film. It doesn’t have to make sense

Smith: I suppose

~The camera zooms in trying to get a shot of Iggy inside the pod. Iggy emerges from the darkness of the pod with a chair in his hand! He’s covered in his own blood. He pauses atop the metal grating and shakes his body like a wet dog. Tiny pieces of glass fly everywhere. An ‘IGGY’ chant fills the House of Mirrors. Iggy throws the chair into the ring. It lands near the body of TLS. He hustles toward the ring post~

Smith: Iggy with a chair!

Hood: TLS had better get off his ass…the belt could have been in that pod

Smith: Indeed…good observation, Hood

Hood: Although we both know how these matches go. It’s always the last pod

~Iggy hops onto the middle buckle. He instantly hops from the middle to the top showing tremendous athleticism and balance. He looks down at TLS. He yells “FUCK YOU!” He leaps off the top rope lunging at TLS with what looks like a diving headbutt. TLS, though, reaches over and grabs the steel chair. He tosses it into the air and right at Iggy…it SLAMS into Iggy’s head!! Iggy’s body spasms upon impact, he lands near TLS but not on top of him. He rolls around the ring, holding his bloodied head in pain. TLS rolls as far away from Iggy as possible, eventually reaching the ropes~

Smith: Not sure what Iggy was thinking throwing that chair into the ring before jumping at TLS…but, as you said, it’s Iggy

Hood: He just saw the chair and threw it. The guy is more animal than he is man, Smith

Smith: He’s certainly a throwback

Hood: A throwback to the CAVE

~TLS, seated up against the bottom rope, reaches his feet. Iggy’s motions have slowed. They have stopped. He’s face down on the mat in a disastrous looking paint job comprised of his own blood. TLS heads for the chair. He picks it up off the mat and looks it over. He looks down at Iggy. The fans start to boo~

Hood: Iggy is a drug addict. He is a womanizer. He is a criminal. He may or may not have murdered a number of individuals. So, naturally, he’s the fan favorite

Smith: I don’t get it, Hood

Hood: It’s because he isn’t wearing face paint, Smith

~TLS reaches back with the chair and he slings it down across the back of Iggy! He does it again and again and again and again, beating Iggy into the mat! After several stiff shots he pauses. The crowd BOOOOS. He re-positions. He stands parallel to the head of Iggy. He reaches back…the crowd yells “NO!” He brings the chair down and smacks it against the back of Iggy’s head!!! The crowd groans. TLS holds onto the chair with one hand while raising his free hand into the air in triumph~

Smith: A vicious beat down by TLS. I know Iggy is, well, Iggy…but I doubt he can come back from that

Hood: Don’t doubt Iggy Hardy, Smith

Smith: I’m not doubting him…I’m simply using common sense

Hood: Ha! Common sense in pro wrestling…good one!

~TLS refocuses on the task at hand. The crowd continues to boo. Iggy remains motionless, face down. TLS heads for the nearest mirror. He steps through the ropes and eyes his reflection. TLS reaches back with the chair and slings it into the mirror. The mirror crashes into a thousand tiny pieces. He turns to the side, avoiding any rogue pieces of debris. He steps into the pod. We pan over to Iggy. The maniacal drug addict must have heard the shatter. His palms are on the mat. He’s struggling to perform a push up~

Smith: TLS might be moments away from becoming the new Savage champion!

Hood: Is that the final pod?

Smith: Uh, no

Hood: Then he’s not moments away. The good news, however, is that we will be seeing another weapon!

~Iggy struggles but manages to push up, onto his knees. He fights to his feet. He’s very un-Iggy like in his weariness. He staggers toward the freshly broken mirror. He falls through the ropes, landing on the metal grating on the outside. He struggles to his feet and stands in front of the broken mirrors. His bloodied face looks up, into the blackness of the pod. His eyes search for TLS~

Smith: We know TLS is in there…the question is what’s in there with him

Hood: Maybe a bed. He could be napping

Smith: Yea, I don’t think so

~We hear something shaking. Iggy leans forward. A blast of colored mist hits him in the face!! Iggy staggers back toward the ring. TLS emerges with spray paint! He sprays it all over Iggy’s face, trying to blind the man!! Iggy yells “MY EYES YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He leans up against the pole, covering his face with his hands. TLS continues to spray with the can until it’s empty. He takes the empty can and bashes it into Iggy’s ribs! Iggy gasps for air, falling to his knees. We see his face covered in white paint. TLS lifts a knee into Iggy’s face, sending him falling to his side atop the metal grating~

Hood: I’m starting to think it isn’t paint, honestly. He’s had it on for so long now that I think he was just born that way…like maybe two clowns had sex and produced TLS

~TLS tosses the empty can back into the pod. The crowd seems a bit disappointed that a can was all that pod contained. Feels like a complete waste of space. But, hey, we’ll blame it on Zybala. Anyway…TLS heads back into the pod and emerges with his chair. Iggy is stirring, rubbing his face, trying to remove some of the paint. TLS finds three unbroken mirrors in sequence. He stands in front of the first, thinking things over~

Smith: Iggy is still down which means TLS has a great opportunity here. He just has to figure out which pod contains the title.

Hood: I always knew clowns were stupid

Smith: Try telling Pennywise that!

Hood: Pennywise? The fuck is that? What a stupid name. Going with the cheapest coin. I’d be known as Quarterwise. Maybe even SilverDollarWise.

~TLS bypasses the first mirror and stands in front of the second. He looks over at the third. He’s torn. Iggy sits up against the steps on the outside of the ring. He runs his hand along his face. His palm is covered in white paint and blood. He struggles to his feet. TLS spots Iggy standing. He chooses the third mirror and smashes it with the chair! He hurries into the pod. Iggy perks up. The shattering of glass is a slight trigger for this guy, apparently. He stumbles toward the pod~

Smith: It looks as though Iggy is going to get there before TLS can exit

Hood: Yep, the longer this match goes the worse it looks for TLS

Smith: Iggy is a physical specimen

~Iggy stands in front of the pod, much like before. He turns his head, shielding his eyes. A tiny, black, rectangular object flies at him from within the pod. Iggy dodges it! It lands on the metal grating and slides near the ring. Iggy turns to check it out~

Smith: It’s a VHS tape!

Hood: What the fuck?

Smith: Don’t look at me

~Indeed…it IS a VHS tape. It’s blank, with no labeling. Iggy lets out a guttural “OH YEA!” and stands upright. He turns, facing the pod. Another VHS tape comes flying in his direction. He catches it and looks at the front. It, too, is blank. Iggy’s eyes widen. His veins begin to bulge. He stomps his feet atop the metal grating and charges into the pod~

Smith: Iggy Hardy has fond memories for VHS tapes, apparently

Hood: You don’t remember BLANK looking tapes?

Smith: Uh, no

Hood: They always had porn on them!

Smith: Not always! I had several blank tapes with family videos recorded on them

Hood: I had no idea your family was in the porn industry

Smith: YOU TAKE THAT BACK

~Sounds of brawling are heard from within the pod. The body of TLS comes flying from within. He lands hard on the metal grating, arching his back in pain. Iggy emerges carrying a box FILLED with blank VHS tapes. The side of the box reads “IGGY’S PORN STASH” The crowd goes wild!! Iggy takes the box to the ring. He climbs up the steps and drops the box into the ring over the top rope. He kicks it toward the middle. Turning around he sees TLS on all fours, reaching for his back. Iggy leaps off with an elbow into the middle of The Lost Soul’s back!! TLS flips over onto his back, kicking his legs in pain. Iggy lands hard on the metal grating but pops back up. He’s impervious to pain! He’s INTENSE! He yells out and begins to sprint around the ring~

Hood: No shit…guy has faced trapeze artists…bearded women…the guy who puts his head in the lion’s mouth

Smith: TLS is not a clown and has never worked for a circus…as far as I know

~Iggy is about to come full circle. TLS reaches his feet, wobbly. Iggy sprints in his direction and takes TLS down with a lariat!! TLS lands on the metal grating roughly! Iggy continues to sprint, chugging along with his fists pumping through the air. The crowd is going wild with an intense “IGGY!” chant. Hardy is about to make another lap. TLS returns to his feet a second time, holding the back of his head. He sees Iggy heading his way. Iggy extends his arm. TLS ducks! Iggy stumbles past him. Iggy turns around. TLS spins around and drills Iggy in the face with a roaring forearm!!!! It doesn’t do much aside from piss Iggy the fuck off! His eyes widen…he looks at TLS and yells “FUCK YOU!!” He takes off toward TLS! TLS turns and runs! He hops over the ring steps. Iggy leaps and clears them effortlessly. He’s gaining on TLS. TLS reaches the next set of steps. He slows a bit…allowing Iggy to nearly catch him. He gets to the steps and darts to the side, hoping Iggy will run into them. Iggy is able to come to a halt JUST before slamming his knees into the metal. TLS slumps his shoulders and shakes his head, frustrated. Iggy grabs the top portion of the steps and rips them free! He turns around and THROWS them at TLS. TLS moves out of the way. The steps SLAM into the chained siding of the House of Mirrors. The entire chamber shakes. TLS, realizing the danger he’s in, slides into the ring under the bottom rope. Iggy, flat footed, jumps atop the apron. TLS sprints, dodging the VHS collection. He hits the ropes. Iggy flips over the top rope, landing on his feet in the ring. He lunges forward and greets TLS with a lariat!! TLS turns inside out before landing on his back! The crowd leaps to their feet! Iggy performs a kip up and sprints around the ring~

Smith: TLS is trying to outsmart Iggy…but it’s not working

Hood: Are you saying Iggy is smarter than TLS?

Smith: Certainly not

Hood: So you’re calling Iggy a fucking dumbass?

Smith: I said no such thing!

~Iggy stops sprinting and snares TLS by the hair. He hoists the larger than you’d expect wrestler up, over his head with an impressive dead lift. He’s got TLS in the gorilla press slam position. He heads toward the side of the ring and tosses TLS out of the ring, over the top rope, all the way to the outside!!! TLS lands front first onto the metal grating!! He hits with a tremendous SMACK/THUD combination. He rolls onto his back, clutching at his abdomen and ribs. Iggy performs a backflip for some reason. He lands on his feet and does a crotch chop. More Iggy chants fill the House of Mirrors~

Smith: Iggy Hardy is…well…he’s unconventional

Hood: He’s also super strong

Smith: Stronger than Syren?

Hood: Nobody is stronger than Syren.

~Iggy finally stops running. He spots the two remaining mirrors. It’s as though he’s finally realizing that there’s a match taking place – a match with a very specific stipulation. So, he heads for the corner. He climbs. He’s moving like a pretty normal fellow. He stands atop the corner and looks down at TLS, who is on his back. The crowd inhales with anticipation~

Smith: What’s he going to do?

Hood: Honestly…the guy could take off and fly and I’d probably buy it

Smith: Seriously?

Hood: Cocaine is a hell of a drug

~Iggy steps onto the top of the ring post for added height! He shows tremendous balance. He leaps off! He soars through the air. He brings his knees into his chest. He starts to descend toward TLS. It becomes apparent he’s attempting a double foot stomp! He’s nearing the landing. TLS looks up and is like “OH SHIT”. He rolls out of the way!! Iggy’s feet SLAM into the metal grating! He hits so hard that the bottom half of his body crashes THROUGH the metal grating!! He winds up stuck! From the waist down he’s wedged into the metal grating! He tries to get out, but can’t. TLS sits up against the chained wall of the chamber and sees Iggy’s predicament. He smiles~

Smith: Iggy is in trouble now!

Hood: Looks like TLS finally outsmarted the high as fuck drug attic. Way to go clown man

Smith: I don’t see how Iggy gets out of this. I mean he’s trapped within METAL. It would take something like the Jaws of Life to get him out

Hood: So that means we are going to have a clown as champion? Fuck me

~TLS struggles to his feet. He snares the chair. He looks down at Iggy. Iggy looks up at TLS and yells “FUCK YOU CLOWN!” TLS SMASHES Iggy in the face with the chair! TLS maneuvers his position and drills Iggy in the back with the chair. He re-positions, standing at Iggy’s shoulder. He proceeds to his Iggy in the face…then the back…then the face…then the back! He does this over and over and over and over until Iggy stops moving. The giant, crazed drug addict is wedged inside the metal grating, unconscious. TLS drops the chair near Iggy and falls into the ring, through the ropes. He lays on his back, looking up, taking a moment to catch his breath~

Smith: This might be it, Hood! We might see TLS capture his first OCW title in years

Hood: Even if Iggy were conscious…I don’t think he’d get out of that hole he’s in

Smith: He’s stuck in there pretty tight.

Hood: And now TLS is just chilling…dreaming of giant shoes and bicycle horns

~TLS finally sits up. He returns to his feet and eyes the two remaining mirrors. He grabs a VHS tape. It’s blank…they’re all blank. He heads through the ropes and stands in front of a mirror. He hurls the VHS tape at the mirror, shattering it. TLS pauses and looks over at Iggy who might as well be dead at this point. With confidence, TLS saunters into the pod to retrieve what he hopes is the OCW Savage Championship~

Smith: If the belt is in there…this one is over

Hood: It’s over regardless…Iggy is in worse shape and Lukas Emery

Smith: Poor Lukas

Hood: Poor Lukas? More like poor Syren…I heard he got some of Lukas’ DNA on the bottom of his brand new wrestling boot. He threw the boot away citing that he wouldn’t have any blood relative of Emery on, near or around his feet.

~We zoom into the darkness of the pod, anxious for an answer. Is the title in there? Is TLS the new Savage champion? Slowly a figure emerges. It’s carrying something heavy. Is this it? It appears to be it!~

Smith: I think he’s got the title!

Hood: Yea, he’s carrying something in his hand…assuming that’s TLS

Smith: Well who on Earth could it be?

Hood: Jason Chase?

Smith: Nice reference one person watching this show will get…maybe two

~Hood is wrong. The figure is NOT Jason Chase. It is, however, The Lost Soul. He steps out of the darkness of the pod and into the light. He’s got a bag in his hand. He pauses in front of the ring. The crowd is chanting “YES!” They are ready for TLS to claim his prize. TLS slowly opens the bag. His movements suggest he already knows what’s in there. He reaches into the bag, grabs a handful of something and pulls his arm out. He opens his palm and lets a bunch of white powder fall to and through the metal grating. This…for reasons I don’t’ have to explain, causes the crowd to erupt in arguably the loudest cheer in OCW history~

Smith: It’s a giant bag of cocaine…good heavens

Hood: STRONG ASS BOOKING

Smith: I’m not sure what I was expecting, to be honest. I guess I thought we’d have conventional weapons in those pods. Instead we’ve had spray paint, VHS tapes, cocaine and a roided up psycho from the 80s.

Hood: Yea, whoever the fuck decided to put a chair in one of those pods needs to be fired

~TLS wipes his hand clean, off his pants and in an act of blind rage and frustration throws the bag as high and as far as he can. He steps into the ring and snares another VHS tape out of the cardboard box. He turns and heads for the final mirror. The cocaine bag comes crashing down with a loud thud. It lands near Iggy. A giant cloud of white smoke fills the air, consuming Iggy’s being. The crowd lets out an “OH SHIT.” TLS is standing in front of the mirror. In the reflection he sees the giant cloud of smoke engulf Iggy. He lowers his head, shaking it. A “YOU FUCKED UP” chant starts up~

Hood: If you thought Popeye went ape shit on spinach…just wait until you see Iggy Hardy with cocaine flowing through his veins

Smith: Indeed

~The metal grating around the ring begins to shake. TLS looks down at his feet. He looks back into the mirror and sees the shaking silhouette of Iggy Hardy. He’s getting INTENSE! His arms raises into the air. They start to pump up and down. An “IGGY” chant takes over the once pro TLS crowd. His arms reach down and they rip the metal grating apart. Iggy LEAPS from the ground onto the metal grating! He takes off in a full sprint~

Smith: And he’s intense!

Hood: What the fuck is TLS doing! Break the mirror!

Smith: Perhaps he has an idea? Or, maybe he’s frozen

Hood: Well if he is frozen…whatever’s causing the freeze…he needs to just let it go

~TLS stands with his back to the mirror. Iggy is charging around the ring. Iggy is about to sprint past the mirror when TLS yells out. Iggy stops. TLS Is holding the blank VHS tape in the air. Iggy’s pupils are dilated. His eyes are widened. He sees the tape and yells out “MY PORN!” He charges at TLS like a raging bull. TLS, like a matador, darts out of the way. Iggy dives head first through the mirror~

Smith: TLS just outsmarted Iggy Hardy…is that really a compliment?

Hood: I guess it’s better than having a battle of wits with Iggy Hardy

Smith: Indeed

~TLS carefully steps around the glass, entering the pod. Iggy is somewhere in the darkness of the pod. TLS isn’t in there long. He quickly emerges with the Savage Title over his shoulder. He walks gingerly and quietly. It’s as though he’s trying to avoid waking a sleeping giant. He reaches the exterior of the pod and is just about out. A voice yells out from within the pod “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE CLOWN!” TLS takes off running toward the ring. Iggy Hardy LEAPS out of the pod with a flying knee! He knees TLS in the back of the head! TLS stumbles, dropping the belt. It slides into the ring. TLS shoulders into the ring post. Iggy Hardy, on his feet, flexes and ROARS. He’s covered in sweat, cocaine and blood~

Smith: The belt is in the ring! My goodness…whoever can obtain it will be the new Savage Champion

Hood: Well here’s a scenario we’ve NEVER seen in OCW before

Smith: Stop being such a jerk

Hood: I’m just saying…I’ve seen this movie before

~TLS starts to climb the corner from the outside. He hops onto the apron and climbs. Iggy sees TLS climbing. He pauses thinking “A climbing clown.” But that moment of reflection doesn’t last long. He LEAPS into the air, flatfooted and lands atop the ring post! It’s a true sight to behold. We have the cocaine to thank. TLS is at the top buckle. He’s stunned to see Iggy standing atop the ring post in front of him~

Smith: Iggy’s cocaine fueled body just made the impossible possible

Hood: Guy’s a freak show

~Iggy kicks TLS in the dick. TLS doubles over. Iggy hooks TLS’ head between his legs and leaps off the top rope with a Purifier (Canadian Destroyer)!!! They land atop the box of blank VHS tapes, crushing them!! Iggy, on his ass, feels around the shattered remains of his treasured porn collection. TLS is out. The crowd urges Iggy to grab the belt~

Smith: We all have to make sacrifices in order to achieve our goals

Hood: How dare you minimize what just happened. Some of those tapes were irreplaceable!

~Iggy stands. His intensity is fading into sadness. The crowd yells “GET THE FUCKING BELT!” Iggy looks and sees the Savage Title. He drops to his knees. He reaches down, grabs the belt and hugs it close before falling to his side and rolling onto his back. The bell rings~

Smith: A very sad, melancholy Iggy Hardy is our new Savage Champion. His second Savage Title reign

Hood: Fuck yea! Although he’s headed for one hell of a crash. That was a shit load of cocaine he inhaled and, well, the loss of his precious porn collection is going to sting

Smith: There’s always the internet

Hood: It just isn’t the same, Smith. Some of those tapes were given to him by his mom for his thirteenth birthday

Smith: Okay, I don’t want to hear anymore! A valiant effort by TLS…he just came up short.

Hood: Again, I point to the paint

Smith: As always…well folks, we have our first title change of the evening. We have one more guaranteed coming up very soon.

~We cut backstage to find Welsh staring into a mirror. Cap Slock is nearby. Welsh has a robe on, about to get ready. He looks at Cap Slock through the mirror~

Marcus Welsh: Remember…if I lose, I still want you to execute our deal with Hotstuff and Whirlwind

Cap Slock: YESSIR

Marcus Welsh: I don’t know how long it will take them to name a permanent GM once I’m gone. Probably not long, I imagine. I’m sure Zybala will jockey for and win the spot. For whatever reason he’s got some kind of spell on Mr. Buffett. But it won’t happen tonight. I made a deal with Hotstuff…I made a deal with Pendragon and I made a deal with Whirlwind. That match airs TONIGHT…do you understand?

Cap Slock: YESSIR.

Marcus Welsh: Jacob Hotstuff has been promoting the hell out of this thing. It’s an epic clash between two bitter rivals that had built into a crescendo. Unfortunately Whirlwind went out of business preventing them from being able to carry out their grudge over there…so I was kind enough to help them out. These are two very talented wrestlers…one of whom has already agreed to sign on.

Cap Slock: HOTSTUFF?

Marcus Welsh: Yep. The guy has STAR written all over him. Here’s hoping he wins tonight.

~Welsh turns around and looks Cap Slock in the eye~

Marcus Welsh: It’s been a pleasure working with you, Captain

Cap Slock: DON’T TALK LIKE THAT SIR. YOU COULD STILL WIN.

Marcus Welsh: I very much doubt that. All I’ve ever done is help people out, give them jobs, pay them on time. And this is what I get in return? You’d think at least just ONCE someone would return my kindness. But I don’t think so, Captain. I’m truly alone this evening.

Cap Slock: REGARDLESS. I’D LIKE TO WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK SIR. I HOPE TO BE TAKING ORDERS FROM YOU TOMORROW EVENING.

~Welsh pats Cap Slock on the shoulder and heads off, ready for competition~

Smith: I’m not buying this martyr act, Hood

Hood: Of course you aren’t…but, seriously. He’s a businessman who’s been bullied into fighting. He’s the victim here

Smith: He’s abused his power from day one.

Hood: The man has taken this company to new heights! Look at this Whirlwind deal…Jacot Hotstuff and Pendragon airing tonight on Mayhem! Would Dean have ever done something like that? Would Zybala ever come up with an idea like that?

Smith: It is exciting. I’ve heard great things about Pendragon and Jacob Hotstuff. I look forward to getting to know them better later this evening.

Hood: Way to dodge the question, asshole

Smith: That’s as good a transition as any…folks it’s time to find out who our leader will be moving forward. Months have led to this moment…the street fight between Marcus Welsh and Mike Zybala is next.

Smith: Here we go! Commissioner versus Former General Manager. Zybala against Welsh! This has been boiling to a head for months now. There is so much at stake here.

Hood: You got that right. WHEN Mr. Welsh finally beats that lunatic Zybala, not only will be once again be our general manager and shining example of leadership, but Zybala loses his contract for a OCW title shot.

~The lights in the midway building dim as a nice, melodious beat plays over the speakers, which is soon accompanied by a heavy guitar rift and drums. "Ready To Die" by Andrew W.K. blasts over the speakers as Zybala walks out. He is dressed as an old ring master from the old circus days, top hat and all, arms spread wide open as he take in the cheers. He walks towards the ring, high fiving fans along the way. He gets in the ring, and takes off the ring master outfit. Don't worry, he's not nude. Zybala is clad in a plain black T-shirt and black jeans. He leans back against the turnbuckles and looks up the ramp, waiting for his opponent.~

Belvedere: Introducing first…he is the Commissioner of OCW…ladies and gentlemen…I present to you…Mike Zybala!!

~Marcus Welsh suddenly emerges from the back. He’s got no music. He’s got no pyro. He’s a businessman, not a performer. He’s wearing the very latest in athletic wear. His fists are taped. He heads up the stairs, through the gate and toward the ring. He stands outside the ring, looking up at Zybala. Every fiber of Welsh is against this but…his hands are tied. So, he walks up the steps and enters into the ring~

Belvedere: And, his opponent…he is the OCW General Manager…Marcus Welsh!!!

Hood: There he is! The real boss! Mr. Marcus Welsh! Once he wins, this whole Zybala nightmare will be over. No title shot, Welsh being G.M. again, everything as it should be.

Smith: You act as if this match is a forgone conclusion.

Hood: Trust me. Even though Zybala has more experience in the ring, Mr. Welsh is the smarter man. He has a plan. Trust me.

~Welsh is getting booed by the fans. Zybala gets out of the corner and meets Welsh in the middle of the ring. Zybala overs a handshake. Welsh looks at the hand with disdain and refuses the gesture. The fans boo louder. Zybala thinks for a moment, then has an idea.~

Zybala: If you shake my hand, I'll give you the first shoot. A freebie hit.

~Welsh looks stunned and considers this idea. You can practically see "Vetoed" about to form on his lips, but Welsh reaches out with his hand and shakes Zybala's! The fans are stunned! Some boo, some cheer, while others wonder if this is the end of days. The two let go of each others hands, and being a man of his word, Zybala leans forward with his chin tilted upwards, indicating a free hit. Welsh doesn't waste any time as he balls up a fist and punches Zybala right in the jaw! The commissioner staggers back a bit.~

Hood: This match is as good as done! What a mighty blow from our General Manager!

Smith: It was one punch. Zybala is still standing.

Hood: The idiot is to stupid to know when he's been knocked out. That was a KO shot.

~But it wasn't. Zybala pauses a moment to gather himself. We see a small trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his lip as Zybala looks at Welsh and smiles. We can see him mouth the words "Thank you sir. May I have another?" Welsh shows a brief moment of fear, but then takes another swing at Zybala. This time, Zybala ducks the punch. Welsh isn't going to let up though as he keeps throwing punches at Zybala, who keeps blocking or dodging them. The fans are cheering despite themselves, not expecting this kind of offense from Welsh.~

Hood: Our fearless leader has that idiot on the defensive! This match is gonna be over faster than anyone expected!

Smith: Welsh certainly has caught Zybala off-guard with a flurry of punches.

~Welsh cocks back his arm and swings a mighty right hard and fast at Zybala's head. He's going for the knock out on this one. Sadly for him, Zybala quickly catches the fist in his own hand and smiles at Welsh. Zybala mouths the words "my turn" and drives his free fist into Welsh's breadbasket! Zybala let's go off Welsh's hand as the latter doubles over and wraps his arms around his stomach. Zybala goes behind Welsh, puts his hands in front of his eyes like he's taking mental measurements, and steps back a few feet.~

Hood: And know Zybala is looking at the backside of Mr. Welsh. After he wins, Welsh should go to h.r. and lodge a complaint of sexual harassment.

Smith: I highly doubt that's what he's doing.

Hood: Then what does it look like to you?

Smith:...... I don't know.

~Zybala puts his arms down and charges towards Welsh, delivering a big boot to the backside of Welsh! The fans cheer and laugh as Welsh falls face first on the mat. He scrambles to his feet, more embarrassed than hurt, but that changes very quickly. As he turns around to face Zybala, he is met with a superkick to the face! Down he goes to a chorus of cheers and Zybala postures and flexes a bit before going for the pin. Scruff gets in position..~

One.......

Two.......

~The count doesn't reach three as Zybala is pulled away from Welsh by Knux and two other security guards. ~

Hood: Oh Thank God and Baby Jesus!

Smith: Zybala had this match in the bag! I call shenanigans!

Hood: No rules in a street fight. Classic OCW baby! Welsh is out thinking that goof Zybala, thought that's not hard to do.

~The two nameless security guards are holding a struggling Zybala on the mat as Knux helps Welsh to his feet. Knux hands a bottle of coconut water to Welsh who opens it and drains the contents quickly. He then throws the empty plastic bottle at Zybala before he and Knux starts stomping away at the commissioner. The fans boo as this beat down goes on for a few moments. Welsh then stops as if he has an idea. He stops the guards and orders them to pick Zybala up. They do, and when Zybala is face level, Welsh glares at him.~

Welsh: This was all your "great" idea! You asked for this. Let's go for a walk! See how good this park actually is!

~Welsh then motions for Knux and the guards to bring Zybala outside of the ring and drag him out of the midway building. Scruff follows in case there is a pinfall and the camera follows for the action. Welsh and his thugs exit the building and come up to a food stand. It's a normal food stand that you see at any carnival or amusement parks. Welsh looks at it with contempt. He grabs the back of Zybala's head by the hair and punches him hard in the stomach then makes him look at the stand.~

Welsh: You see this garbage?! This is your idea. Your brain child! And it's all shit! A buck fifty for a large soda? Are you trying to just throw this company's money away?

~Welsh looks back at the stand and more closely at the menu board. He turns back to Zybala.~

Welsh: I would have charged ten dollars for the cup. You're a fool if that's what all your prices are like.

Zybala: I did the math for everything. We still make a profit. If you overcharge people, they won't come back.

~Welsh is about to say more but is rudely interrupted by a large someone shoving past him. ~

Welsh: What the fuck, you mouth breather!?

~Welsh grabs the person by the shoulder and tries to turn him but can't. They turn themselves however and we see that it's a pissed off looking Scott Syren! Before Welsh can even think "Oh Fuck", Syren clotheslines Welsh right on his ass. Before the security thugs can react, Sure grabs the two nameless thugs and smashes their heads together. He then grab the metal napkin holder that is resting on the counter of the food and drink stand and clocks Knux in the head with it. Zybala looks around at the people at his feet then grins nervously at Syren, who boots him in the gut, doubling over the commish. Syren then grabs Zybala, lifts him up and powerbombs him right on top of Welsh. Syren then nods at Scruff, and places his order. Scruff gets in his knees and makes a count.~

ONE.......

TWO........

~Welsh kicks out. He pushed Zybala off of him and slowly gets to his feet. He takes one look at Syren and takes off running into the park. Zybala groggily gets in a sitting position a moment later and looks around but cannot find his opponent. He looks up at Syren who points his massive, muscled arm in the direction Welsh took off in. Zybala nods in thanks and starts running towards Welsh.~

Smith: We almost had a Zybala win there.

Hood: And it would have been the darkest day in OCW history! I can't believe I'm going to say this but damn that Syren.

Smith: Do you want him to hear you say that??

Hood: Nope.

~Zybala makes his way into the thick of the park. Games and attractions on one side, rides on the other. He stops and looks around. Where could Welsh have gone? Is he hiding in one of the games? Could he be enjoying the Uber Ride bumper cars? Zybala heads towards the rides, asking people if they've seen Welsh. Nobody has. Zybala walks past The Marvel roller coaster with loops and sharp turns, and The Incredible Spin, a Superbob like the Musik Express or The Himalaya. Zybala turns towards The Marvel and we see Welsh sneaking behind Zybala. Welsh suddenly springs forward and wraps his arms around Zybala's head and neck with a modified sleeper! Zybala starts thrashing around, trying to break the hold but Welsh refuses to let go. Zybala starts backing up, in hopes of finding something to drive Welsh into, but all he accomplishes is going up the stairs to the Incredible Spin! The ride is stationary thankfully, as fans and park goers are getting on the ride. As the get up the steps, Welsh sees an open seat and throws Zybala in it. As Welsh tries to escape, Zybala grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the seat with him. A ride attendant comes by and locks the seat's safety bar into place before moving to the next seat. Welsh is trying to get out of the seat but Zybala wraps his arm around Welsh's shoulders to hold him still. Welsh looks panicked and turns towards Zybala.~

Welsh: You gotta let me off. I don't do well on these kinds of rides.

Zybala: Why would you tell me that? This is still a match you dummy.

~Welsh looks horrified by Zybala's lack of compassion as the ride slowly starts to move. The speed picks up gradually as in each rotation we can see a smiling Zybala and an ill-looking Welsh. Then they become a blur as the ride hits full speed! People are cheering and hollering for the ride to go faster as rave music blasts on the rides speakers. The ride goes on for about two minutes before it begins to slow down. As it slowly comes to a stop we see Zybala clapping and whooping where as Welsh looks green in the gills as the old saying goes. Welsh also looks relieved that the ride is over. He tries pushing the safety bar but it won't budge. Worried and confused, he looks around for the ride attendant, and spot him, still in the control booth. The ride begins to move again.....backwards. We here a miserable cry if despair briefly before its over taken by cheering. Another two minutes pass and the ride finally comes to a stop. The safety bars release and Welsh climbs over Zybala, making his way out of the seat, pushing past people and runs to a near by garbage bin. Zybala calmly gets of the ride, albeit dizzy, and goes next to Welsh, who is vomiting in the garbage bin.~

Hood: That son of bitch Zybala! He is gonna get a cheap win because of under handed tactics.

Smith: It's not his fault Welsh has a weak stomach.

Hoid: But it IS his fault that Welsh got stuck on the ride.

Smith: Can't argue that point.

~Zybala looks at Welsh throwing up and shakes his head. He feels pity for the man, but this IS a match after all, and Zybala intends to win. As he approaches Welsh, we can see Outsider's alumni Bri Carter running up to the opponents. She is holding a bird cage. Zybala takes a step back. As she gets to them, Welsh as finally stopped throwing up and is standing up. We see a brightly colored parakeet in the cage.~

Carter: Mr. Welsh! Zybala... Am I glad I ran into you two. Look what I just bought at Alice's attraction! Go ahead buddy, just like you said in the store.

Zybala: Afraid? Not per say. I just don't like them, and they don't like me.

~As soon as the words leave Zybala's mouth, the bird turns in his direction and I swear the eyes narrow and it starts squaking and flapping it's wings. Zybala steps back another foot as Welsh brings the bird closer to him. With Welsh and the bird stalking him, Zybala doesn't notice Bri Carter coming from the side. She swings the metal bird cage and connects with it right on Zybala's forehead. The commissioner drops and Welsh quickly gives Bri her bird back and goes for the cover. Scruff gets in position!~

One....

Two.......

No!

~Zybala gets a shoulder up and Welsh is frustrated. He then notices a trickle of blood from where the bird cage struck Zybala and starts punching down at the wound. Bri stands there for a moment before walking away, maybe to get a sno-cone or something.~

Smith: Welsh almost stole it right there with the help of some fan.

Hood: That wasn't "some fan" dumbass. That was former Outsider's wrestler, Bri Carter. She was very unhappy with the way Zybala and Dean ran things over there.

Smith: How do you know this?!

Hood: Outsiders was a way to pass the time while we were out of work.

Smith: You didn't find another job to keep busy?

Hood: Is drinking in my underpants on my sofa a job?

Smith:...... Too graphic, and no.

Hood: Ah. Then no. I did not.

~Back to the action. Welsh looks annoyed that Zybala is still moving despite the small cut being opened more by Welsh's punches. Welsh stands up off of Zybala and starts looking around the park. He spots a near by steel chair and walks over to grab it. As he walks back to Zybala, Welsh is stops by a man in a Spiderman costume that is two sizes too small for him. The mask barely covers the face, but we can see enough to know it's Tony the Spider!~

Welsh: ......What?

Tony: I hear that you don't like superheroes.

Welsh: I like them. Just not in MY company!

Tony: Well then, the Spiderman doesn't like YOU.

~Tony then proceeds to starts attacking Welsh with the Spider Bites! Welsh looks confused as Tony's rapid body punches have little to no effect. Tony starts to breathe hard as he exhausted himself with his attack and looks at Welsh, who is thoroughly annoyed. He raises the chair above his head, which is enough to scare Tony into running away. Welsh turns towards Zybala and starts raining down chair shots to the midsection and legs of Zybala, shouting at Zybala while he hits him; mostly about how he's ruining Welsh's company and life. Welsh raises the chair up for another blow when suddenly it gets grabbed away from him from behind. Welsh turns around and sees yet another superhero! The protector of the weak, the driver of the superstars, it's Uber Man!! Welsh tries to grab the chair, but Uber Man throws it on the roof of a near by I-Got-It tent.~

Uber Man: Your reign of villainy ends here Welsh Man! I will no longer allow you to harm Mr. Zybala all because you don't like him.

Welsh: And what the fuck are you going to do?! I don't see your piece of shit car, so you can't run me over. You're as strong as a wet paper bag, so you can't fight me. So tell me, "mighty hero", what exactly are you going to do?

Uber Man: Nothing. I'm just the distraction.

Welsh:... Huh?

~Uber Man just points behind Welsh, who turns to look at Zybala, who is on his knees, trying to stand. Welsh turns back to Uber Man, who now has PRYDE standing next to him! Pryde smiles and waves at Welsh before grabbing him by the head and tucking it under his arm. Pryde lifts Welsh up for a suplex and holds him up in the air for a brief moment before flipping him back. At the last minute, Pryde turns the Suplex into a neckbreaker, laying out Welsh. Pryde then leans over Welsh.~

Pryde: Welcome to Exile Island, bitch!

~Pryde walk away as Uber Man helps Zybala get to his feet. Zybala sees Welsh on the ground and starts stomping away at his former boss. After a particularly hard stomp, he leaves his foot on Welsh's chest and just walks on him to get to Uber Man. Zybala talks to Uber for a second, who looks dubious about what was just told him. Zybala reassures Uber Man who nods. Zybala then picks up Welsh and stands him up to face Uber Man. Zybala then stands next to Uber Man and lifts three fingers. Zybala counts down the digits and on zero, him and Uber Man hit Welsh with a double superkick! Welsh goes down and Zybala shakes Uber Man's hand before sending him on his way.~

Smith: Super and Uberkick!!! The old boss is out cold!

Hood: This is cheating! All of Zybala's buddies are doing his job for him.

Smith: What about Carter and Knux?

Hood: They were doing what's best for the company!

Smith: Hypocrite.

~Zybala, with blood still dripping down his face, stands tall over Welsh. He looks down at the man who always vetos his ideas and shakes his head. This isn't nearly enough pain. He grabs Welsh by the legs and starts dragging him through the park. Out of the corner of his eye, Zybala spots a dunk tank and grins. He drags Welsh over to the tank, pushes him onto the stairs to the sitting plank, steps on Welsh to get up the steps, and drags Welsh up the stairs. Zybala, with a sadistic smile on his bloody face, then grabs Welsh's head and plunges it into the water. Welsh immediately starts thrashing around and trying to pull out his head from the water, but Zybala holds tight. About twenty seconds pass before Zybala pulls Welsh's head out of the water. Welsh is gasping for air, trying to get some sweet, sweet oxygen back in his lungs. Zybala let's Welsh catch his breath before shoving his head back into the liquid abyss! Zybala holds it under for twice as long as the first time before dragging Welsh's head up from the water. Welsh is coughing and gasping, desperately trying to breathe. He is also looking around. He spots Scruff.~

Welsh: Scruff! Ring the bell! That's enough! I qu...

~Zybala quickly covers Welsh's mouth before he could concede the match. He starts stroking Welsh's wet hair, as if to comfort him.~

Zybala: Shhhh. Shhh. Shhhh. You hush now. It'll be okay. We're not done yet buddy. Oh and Scruff, a new amendum to the match. The only way to win is by pinball. No submissions, no quitting.

~Welsh frees his mouth from Zybala's hand.~

Welsh: VETOED! I QUIT! GET OFF OF ME YOU PSYCHO!

~Zybala laughs at this.~

Zybala: Oh Marcus, have we forgotten already? You're suspended. You have no authority, no power. You have no hope! Let's continue this journey.

~Zybala then throws Welsh down the small flight of stairs to the dirt ground below. Welsh lands on his front in a heap. Before he can move to try to escape, Zybala jumps off the dunk tank and lands on Welsh's back with an elbow drop! Welsh cries out in pain and Zybala stands up and notices a near by wheelbarrow. He walks over and grabs it and brings it back over by Welsh. Zybala sets the wheelbarrow down, picks Welsh up and bodyslams him into the wheelbarrow. Welsh cries out in pain and Zybala lifts the handles of wheelbarrow and starts rolling it through the park. Zybala starts to point out all the different rides and games and food stands. Zybala suddenly stops in front of a "Hood's Funnel Cakes" stand.~

Zybala: All this blood loss is making my sugar low. I need something sugary. You want one Marcus?

~Welsh just groans. Zybala goes up to the stand and orders funnel cakes for him, Welsh and Scruff. He pays the stand attendant and hands a funnel cake to Scruff who enjoys the tasty treat. Zybala places one on the chest of Welsh and starts to eat his own. Welsh doesn't touch his and this annoys Zybala. He nods his head towards the food but Welsh refuses. This angers Zybala more as he takes his and Welsh's funnel cakes and mashes them in Welsh's face. Welsh weakly tries to fend off Zybala but this only angers Zybala more. He bends over and flips the wheelbarrow over, tossing Welsh to the ground in the process. Zybala grabs Welsh by the scruff of the neck and drags him to his feet. He then drives Welsh's face into the side of the funnel cake stand. Welsh lands against the side with a sick thud, but stays on his feet. Zybala grabs Welsh again and slams him face first against the stand again, then quickly grabbing the back of his head, Zybala starts repeatedly slamming Welsh's head against the stand over and over until the red life source starts pouring down Welsh's face. Zybala then grabs Welsh by the sides of the head and makes them look bloody face to bloody face.~

Zybala: Hey look Markie! It's like looking into a mirror!

~Zybala then tilts his head back and brings it crashing forward, bashing his and Welsh's foreheads together with a wet sounding "thwack." Zybala stumbles back a bit, dizzy on his feet, and let's go of Welsh, who falls to the ground. After regaining his senses, Zybala spots Welsh on the ground, bleeding and bruised. Zybala frowns. This is no longer fun for him. He wants to end this soon. He looks around and spots a large garbage can. He goes over to the can and picks it up. Has he walks to Welsh, Zybala suddenly stops. He smiles before putting down the garbage can. The camera looks in the direction of Zybala's gaze and it shows...~

Smith: Oh my God!

Hood: It's Mack O'Connor!

Smith: And look what he's holding!

~It is indeed O'Connor, and in his hand his the Paradigm Title. The crowd pops with loud cheers as they see Mack, who nods at Zybala. He then motions for Zybala to pick up Welsh. With Welsh standing, Mack shoves the title in his face.~

~O'Connor then pulls the title back and then smashes it into Welsh's head! The fans and Zybala cheer as Welsh falls to the ground. O'Connor then turns towards Zybala, whose smile falters as he looks at O'Connor. Zybala has enough time to mouth "no" before O'Connor lays home out with a title shot to the face, reopening the cut that was slowing down. The cheers turn to boos as O'Connor looks at the two downed men, shrugs and walks away. Scruff doesn't know what to do, because Zybala said pinfalls only.~

Smith: And because of Mack, this match has come to a screeching halt.

Hood: What a dick! If he just hit Zybala, we could of gone on to the next match and have the real boss in charge again.

Smith: But Zybala wasn't the one who suspended Mack, Welsh was.

Hood: Semantics.

~Zybala and Welsh are still on the ground, both bleeding profusely. Scruff has a fried dough in his hands and sitting on a nearby bench, watching the two men on the ground and the park goers walking around or over them. Among those people happens to be a recovered Knux, who is looking all over. Relief washes over his face as he spots Welsh and runs over to him. Knux helps Welsh to his feet and puts his arm around his shoulder to drop him up. Welsh starts to come to and looks at who's holding him and smiles.~

Welsh: Knux, get me out of here.

Knux: What about Zybala?

~They both look at Zybala, who is starting to push himself off of the ground. Welsh shakes his head.~

Welsh: Fuck him and fuck this match. Just get me out of here. I'll talk to Buffet later and convince him to give me my job back. Let's go before this psycho gets a second wind.

~Knux helps Welsh walk and move through the crowd of people as the fans in the arena start booing at this cowardice. Knux and Welsh navigate their way through the crowd, looking around with lost looks on their faces.~

Welsh: Where the fuck did we park?

Knux: I don't remember boss. The limo dropped us off.

~Welsh curses and the pair continues walking, trying to find something, anything that looks familiar. They pass by rides, games, and food stands but still keep searching. The minutes pass as the fans boo. More restless and bored than actual animosity towards Welsh. Suddenly, Welsh's eyes light up as he looks at a roller coaster. This is a massive behemoth of steel that looks over a hundred feet tall and equal length and width full with twist and turns and upside down loops galore. Welsh smiles as he reads the name.~

Welsh: "The Marvel." Gotta hand it to Zybala. At least that idiot had the smarts to name the biggest ride in the park after the company's biggest star.

Zybala: Awww. Thanks Marcus. I really appreciate that. Its rare when you give me a compliment.

~Welsh and Knux turn around to see Zybala holding a two by four. Zybala swings the large piece of wood with such force that it shatters in half across the knee of Knux! Knux goes down screaming in pain, holding his leg. Welsh tries to run but Zybala quickly grabs him by the collar of his shirt. Zybala applies a headlock and drags a screaming Welsh towards "The Marvel." Zybala pushes his way past the line of cheering ride goers and up the stairs to the rides platform, with Scruff following quickly behind. He throws Welsh to the ground, who quickly gets on his hands and knees begging.~

Welsh: Please, Mike, just stop. No more rides, no more match. Look, how about I just lay down and let you pin me?

Zybala: You know what Marcus, go fuck yourself man.

~Welsh looks terrified as Zybala starts to walk towards him with rage on his face. Welsh starts scooting backwards on his hands and knees as Zybala stalks him. Welsh reaches the edge of the platform with nowhere to go except for a ten foot drop to the ground. Zybala smiles as he grabs Welsh be the throat and drags the man to his feet. Zybala lifts Welsh up for a fall away slam and holds him like that. Zybala looks off the edge of the platform and sees a near by stand next to the platform. He turns around with the back of his feet touching the edge of the platform, and with Welsh still in his arms, moonsaults off the platform onto the building below! The two man crash through the roof of the stand sending people scattering away screaming! We see a photo kiosk for pictures that were taken on The Marvel. Welsh's back crashes into the cashier's counter with Zybala on top of him. Both men are out cold. A moment passes before Scruff runs into the photo store and surveys the scene.~

Smith: OH MY GOSH!

Hood: The fuck is wrong with Zybala? Welsh BEGGED him to pin him and he does that? Guy is NUTS

Smith: He certainly marches to the beat of his own drum, Hood. I just hope neither man suffered any devastating injuries. That was…well, that was nasty

~Fans start to stand around the two fallen OCW leaders. We zoom in for a look. We see Zybala on top of Welsh. The fans are going crazy. They are screaming for Scruff! He’s busy trying to get down. One fan starts to push their way to the front~

Smith: Zybala is going to win this

Hood: Fucking hell…I’m putting in my two weeks

Smith: Don’t be like that, Hood

Hood: I’m sorry, I cannot work for this man

~All the fans standing around the carnage are looking for Scruff. The one fan who pushed themselves to the front bends over. They are wearing a hoodie. They quickly remove Zybala’s arm off of Welsh’s chest. They push Zybala on his back. The person then shoves Welsh on top of Zybala. The hooded person looks around…we get a glance inside the hood to see the very briefest glimpse of a face. The hooded person then disappears~

Smith: Was that…Rhodes?

Hood: I couldn’t tell…I’ll just call them savior!

Smith: Well this obviously can’t stand. Someone tell Scruff that this pin has been compromised!

~Scruff finally reaches the scene. He sees Welsh covering Zybala with his arm. He drops to his knees. The other fans see it too. They are confused. A few yells out “WAIT!” Scruff starts the count~

One.......

two.......

THREE!!

~Inside the midway arena the bell rings and the fans start booing! The fans surrounding the scene boo. Several of them try to explain to Scruff that the pin has been manipulated. Scruff just shrugs. He sees what he sees~

Smith: NO! A person who looked, to me, like Melinda Rhodes manipulated that pin! She put Welsh on top of Zybala while everyone was looking for Scruff! This CANNOT stand

Hood: Haha, fuck off. Justice, my man! Welsh donated some blood to Rhodes…so if Rhodes returned the favor…who can blame her? No good deed usually goes unpunished…in this night…in the rarest of nights…a good deed was finally rewarded

Smith: I’m still not sure we can call that Melinda Rhodes. We’re going to need to look at that reply closer.

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match…AND STILL OCW GENERAL MANAGER….MARCUS WELSH!!!!!

Smith: C’mon…pull up the replay! Show the world what we all just saw! Let’s identify this culprit who has single handedly altered OCW’s future

Hood: I’m not seeing any replay

Smith: What? Are you serious? I’m being told we are NOT going to watch the replay. It’s being held for internal inquiry. What does that even mean?

Hood: It means…THE BOSS IS BACK!

Smith: This is not right! Poor Zybala! He had this match won! I…maybe I should put in MY two weeks

Hood: Go for it

Smith: Alas…I will stick it out. I am a man of my word, after all

Hood: Ugh

Smith: Sadly it appears as though Welsh will remain in charge. While we sort things out down here...let's take you to this special match brought to you by Whirlwind Wrestling! OCW's newest signing, Jacob Hotstuff looks to settle things with his rival, Pendragon.

~Our screen cuts to a new feed~

This is the culmination of a five month blood rivalry resulting in the first singles match between “Hollywood Jesus” Jacob Hotstuff and the masked Strategist, Pendragon. Originally slated for a confrontation in August at the pay-per-view extravaganza “Wildfire", obviously now that can't happen. We are eternally grateful to both the OCW for allowing us to tell this story here, as well as the fine folks at Whirlwind Wrestling LLC for allowing us the opportunity to bring this match the much-needed airtime it deserves. Thank you guys, we love you and you'll be missed! Now, with that said...you paid for a show, and we will give you exactly that!

In what began with a statement…

Both men threw their best shots at the other, each with a plan to enable and neither having “defeat” as a part of those plans;

In the end though, it wasn't The Upper Class that would flex their will;

But it was The Upper Class that would get the last laugh;

Jacob Hotstuff had thrown a fireball into the face of Pendragon, but not even that would hold him down…the next month at Day of Judgment, Jacob found himself on the wrong side of a veteran’s Monterrey Meltdown (Coquina Clutch), but that wasn't where Jacob’s poor luck would end. While being checked out by a physician, Pendragon would take it upon himself to “crash the party” so to speak;

Pendragon had set the omen in position. He wasn't going to stop until he had rid the wrestling world of Jacob. And Jacob wouldn't stop until...well, we'll let you see how Jacob upped the ante, at Triple Threat;

The red Segway PT raced over a loose dirt road at “breakneck” [sic] speeds with Jacob Hotstuff stood atop it, his face cold and remorseless as he crashed through the elaborate iron gate that wasn’t securely shut.

“Mua ha ha...come, Pendragon!” Jacob lambasted to no one in particular, “The time is near...we must settle this. I must rob you of that which makes you, you - your mask, your identity - and I must burn it to ash!”

It didn’t take much more than a few minutes for Jacob to roll up to the front door, solid oak as it was, and ornamented by large golden hinges and a chinese dragon door knocker. Jacob took the ornament in his hand, dropping it again the door in a loud “thud”.

Thud. Thud. Thud...to which the door slowly opened, revealing Pendragon dressed more casually, but with his iconic mask strapped tightly to his head.

“Jacob? What on Ear -”

“Silence! The time has come, we must do battle! For superiority! For everything! For nothing. This ends. Right, NOW!”

Pendragon stared at his Whirlwind adversary, a bit dumbstruck, and maybe partially taken aback by this Hollywood loon wearing a fur coat and riding a segway. Curiously, Pendragon shook his head.

“Jacob...Whirlwind is over. We’re not needed anymore. We don’t have to do this…”

“So you’re scared of Hollywood Jesus then, of my brilliance!” Jacob lashed back at the masked man, shoving past still on his segway. Pendragon turned around, now a bit irritated at his Whirlwind nemesis inviting himself into his home…

“Jacob, you need to leave. You’re not taking my mask, I’m not burning you...we’re not even being paid anymore, what part of services not required do you not understand? Whirlwind is over. We’re not fighting...Wildfire isn’t happening.”

“You fool! Brother Pendragon...” Jacob reaches to the wall, grasping a [conveniently placed] wooden practice sword, brandishing the “blade” at Pendragon’s body! “Do you not know? This is the part, when you fall down and bleed to death! En garde!” All of this while Jacob still stood on the segway, of course.

Pendragon stared blankly at the clearly off-his-rocker B-List sensation, but the gravity of the situation not lost on him. With the “sword” held with tip-to-chest, it was obvious what Pendragon had to do…

With a flash he spun around, his backfist knocking the wooden blade from his body, granting time to take his own “sword” from the wall, which happened to also be so conveniently placed.

“Jacob...you shall leave me no choice…”

Jacob is quick to go for his sword, momentarily stepping off the segway as Pendragon was quick to close the gap. Jacob made it back to his pair of Hollywood Wheels but quickly tumbled backwards with a swift flourish from his rival catching him square in the ribs. Jacob gritted his teeth as Pendragon ascended to the platform with wheels and with his sword raised high in the air gave chase to the man known as Hollywood Jesus as he was quick to put space between each other.

Jacob cleverly used the meticulously arranged furniture as a second man to keep Pendragon just out of reach as the gears were turning in his head on a way to reverse this sudden shift in fortune. Pendragon meanwhile invoked images of a mad general on a modern chariot seeking to vanquish his foe as he swung horizontally, missing by inches as Jacob ducked and tossed a chair into his path. Pendragon backed up and wheeled around the obstacle as he resumed pursuit as Jacob was beginning to run out of furniture to duck and dodge behind. Looking to nearby shelves he began tossing various objects; books, paperweights, a cup of marbles and even a snow globe all to no avail as Pendragon was not deterred in his chase. Finally Jacob reaches towards a cabinet and pulls out a pewter candle holder and chucks it with all his might! The candle holder lands right where it needs to, jamming the platform at the right wheel as it came a sudden halt, the momentum throwing the masked strategist off!

Pendragon's sword skids across the room as Jacob slowly twirls the handle with his fingers as he approaches his rival before swinging downward using both hands.

WHACK!

Pendragon rolled out of the way at just the right moment as Jacob flashed a grimace showcasing both anger and disbelief. The Man in the Mask kipped up off the floor and allowed his feet to move swiftly and fluidly as he followed up each dodge with a kick, alternating high and low. Professional Wrestling's (Self-Proclaimed) Michael Bay however knew that he couldn't allow his nemesis to arm himself and maneuvered himself in a way to place himself between the training sword fifteen or so feet away. Pendragon followed him like a shadow and closed the gap swiftly as he shifted his body just enough to evade the downward swing with a palm strike straight to the chest causing him to drop his weapon! Jacob gasps for air as Pendragon slid down the table Dukes of Hazzard style to his weapon. Suddenly the air of combat was interrupted as a new person emerged on the scene.

'Pendragon? I wasn't aware we were expecting company...'

The voice of El Herrero, Pendragon's trusted confidant, the Alfred to his Batman, cut the tension in the room if only for a moment. Wearing a navy blue suit with a mask to match and a grey beard protruding through the bottom. He was carrying a silver tray with a sizzling hot fajita sitting on top of it. El Herrero was a man more prepared for dinner than war.

El Herrero turned his head as the smug grin of Jacob was swiftly looking back at him, still on a knee.

'Oh, this guy. You should've just told me it was Jacob; that explains everything. You mean he came all this way just for this? Did he get the memo that your services were no longer required? Pretty sure everyone got their pink slip and their last paycheck.' You could almost hear El Herrero's eyes roll behind his mask.

'Silence, Jeeves! How dare you mock at the feet of your social superiors, The Upper Class!' Jacob was swift to quip back. Pendragon and El Herrero turned to look at one another, their body language mirroring one another; one part disbelief and two parts astonishment.

'...Should I call the authorities or the psych ward?' El Herrero's shoulders slumped as he was ready to just put an end to this before the estate was turned into a war zone.

Jacob had enough as he grabbed a hold of the pan of sizzling fajitas, which conveniently had a pot holder draped over the handle and flung it in it's entirety at his adversary! Pendragon managed to parry the pan but not the sizzling food that landed all over him which served to stain his clothes more than anything else. Jacob then entered a struggle with El Herrero over the silver tray in which he just snatched dinner off of. Pendragon is quick to run to his old friend's aid as El Herrero and Hollywood Jesus struggled over the platter more than an albino silverback and a Roman soldier in a gladiatorial arena to prove their dominance with Jacob's youth inevitably winning out. Pendragon arrived just in time to take a direct hit as Jacob smashed the silver platter over his head. Pendragon took three steps forward swinging wildly with his sword before faceplanting on the ground.

El Herrero is quick to try to rush to his friend's aid but Jacob dispatches him quickly with a backfist to the face sending the masked senior citizen down for a nap. Pendragon appears to be out like a light as a lightbulb goes off in Jacob's head. He goes over to his segway, dislodging the candle holder from the wheel allowing the contraption to work “good enough” to go in forward and reverse. Hollywood Jesus takes what appears to be a victory lap around the room and his fallen foe before dismounting the platform with wheels and picking the Masked Man up and placing him on the device, handlebars supporting his slumped over body. With the segway Jacob guides his foe to the fireplace in which a signed, one of a kind painting of Jerry Stiller sat upon the mantle above it. Hollywood Jesus unceremoniously yanks Pendragon backward off the device causing it to halt and the masked strategist to fall prone on his back.

The fire crackled ominously as the sinister reddish orange flickers of plasma danced a dance of death as the wood within was being charred beyond recognition. Jacob grabbed Pendragon by the back of the head, using his mask as a point to fasten his grip, as he dropped to a knee as he held it towards the fireplace.

'You want to read me my last rites?! You want to “anoint” me in kerosine and send me pictures of fire and things burning, you masked fuggo freak?! I'm going to give you a real reason to wear that mask and then I'm going to take it away from you! I AM the Michael Bay of Professional Wrestling and you're about to star in my next film; Hollywood Jesus Presents:, Return of the Messiah: Ashes to Ashes the Dragon Burns Down in 4K Ultra HD!'

Jacob Hotstuff gives his Hollywood villain monologue before trying to shove Pendragon's head into the fireplace! The Man in the Mask comes to life not a moment sooner as he presses his hands outside the fireplace to prevent his head from being shoved into the open flame! Jacob shoves harder trying to force his head inside but to no avail, he's not budging! Jacob, so desperate to burn his foe begins to press forward with his entire body now knowing there would be no escape if Pendragon lost his grip now. Pendragon's grip slips slightly as his face gets uncomfortably close to the flames but somehow, someway he finds the strength to throw Jacob's body off his back and slumps to a seated position next to the fireplace.

Jacob is incensed now and looking for something, anything to hit Pendragon with. Immediately he goes for the painting of Jerry Stiller off the mantle and slams it right through Pendragon's head as he attempts to get up. Comically, the painting remains dangled around Pendragon’s neck with his head protruding through the center of the prolific painting. There would be no time for laughs though; Jacob knew his fight was not yet over. With a boot to the side of the masked man’s face, Pendragon is kicked back into the mantle and allowing the movie star to take his leave.

The shot would remain fixed on Pendragon for a number of minutes before finally coming to, with him slowly removing the now ruined picture frame from around his neck. Of course to his surprise, Jacob was nowhere to be seen. No way Jacob had barged in with such a grandiose entrance only to leave a few minutes later. No, no, that wouldn’t be like Jacob Hotstuff at all…”So where…” Pendragon muttered to himself, finally risen to his feet. His eyes dart around the room, finally resting on a doorway left cracked open. Only darkness emanated from within.

“If that’s the only lead…”

Cautiously, Pendragon stepped into the darkness, calling for Jacob to show himself at once. If this was some kind of joke it really wasn’t funny anymo - Pendragon suddenly gasps, barely falling backwards in time to avoid the sudden rush of velocity above. More frightened than anything, Pendragon cautiously moves forward to inspect whatever that was. It’s a box. A box? Yes, just a box...until the lights came on suddenly. In the bright light, Pendragon could tell two things. One, he was stood in his own war room, fabulously adorned by posh rugs and a lengthy golden oak table, and scattered about the floor were portraits of some of the best generals of history. Everyone from Sun Tzu to Washington, Grant to Lee and, yes, even Genghis Khan. Wait, on the floor? Much to Pendragon’s dismay, the portraits lay scattered about, but replacing them on the walls were none other than several different lifelike portraits of Michael Bay, each painting utilizing a different pose than the last! Pendragon shakes his head in disgust before finally turning back to the box that could have squashed him. He picks it up and closely inspects it, searching for the label…

To his horror, he drops the box on his toe as he stumbles back, the camera zooming in to see just what scared him away...ACME Napalm it said. “What the ever lovin…” the masked man exclaimed! “I could have been crushed, or doused……...doused in NAPALM?! This, this is too -”

In the distance, the clickety clack of wheels to the floor can be heard, perhaps the only warning Pendragon would receive. The bright lights intensify, nearly blinding the man in the mask while Hollywood screeches pierced his ear drums - it was Jacob sat atop his platform with wheels, speeding toward his target at “breakneck” speeds before finally, with a death-defying leap from the Segway, landing flush onto Pendragon via Lou Thesz Press!! From the mount position Jacob laid in punch after punch after punch onto his rival, ending with both hands wrapped tightly around Pendragon’s throat!

A deep throttling would be the Dragon’s demise?! Quickly, Pendragon began to fade as the breaths quickly passed through his lungs… just when it looked like Jacob finally snuffed out the masked strategist and prevailed at long last...

THUMP!

El Herrero comes in with the clutch save and receipt having smacked Jacob Hotstuff in head with what appears to be a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica! Pendragon gasps for air on the ground as the hit while enough to break the choke was far from a knockout blow. El Herrero goes for a second swing but Hollywood Jesus ducks and hits the elder masked man with a rather flashy looking uppercut. El Herrero stirs on the ground trying to slowly get up as Jacob takes his time kicking his foot into his face, imploring him to kiss his feet! El Herrero however starts... laughing? Jacob tilts his head rather perplexed, wondering why this man, who had to at least be somewhere in his sixties was laughing. Clearly it wasn't his Gucci boots or designer jeans but yet that silver haired glorified butler (in his eyes anyway) was mocking him all the same! Jacob considers yanking the old fool up by his beard but afraid of finding a baby bird or last week's lunch buried somewhere within it decides not to, instead using the mask for leverage as he lifts him up.

Jacob locks him in a three-quarter facelock...

El Herrero reaches into his jacket as Jacob begins to transition...

CLACK CLA- BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ!

El Herrero, brandishing a taser shocks the living daylights out of Jacob Hotstuff as his eyes light up and nearly bulge out of his skull before falling to his knees! El Herrero turns off the device and slides it back into his coat as he eschews a chance at further payback opting to check on his friend. By this point Pendragon had pulled himself up to seated position as the two masked men exchanged a few hushed words between one another. Pendragon picks himself up to his feet as Jacob began to stir on the floor. The Man in the Mask could've gone straight after his rival to inflict more punishment and at first it appeared he'd do so but instead he opts to step over him and grabs one of several portraits of Michael Bay off the walls... and SMASHES it right across the door frame! Jacob pleads with his eyes as he endures a little bit of psychological pain and anguish with each swing against the frame; he downright and visibly cringes when he sees Pendragon slam it on the ground and plant his boot right through the what was left. Pendragon grabs another off the wall and dooms it to a similar fate as he demolishes it on the corner of the oak table. Jacob shouts “NO MORE!” when Pendragon snatches another off the wall and with a swift toss to El Herrero punches Michael Bay right through the face!

Jacob slumped down to his knees. The pain, anguish, neigh I say HORROR he felt watching Pendragon physically abuse the likeness of the B-List sensation’s Hollywood idol bringing him a pain the likes of which he had never convinced himself he could ever feel! His arms out-stretched at his sides as he proclaimed “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Jacob was devastated. After Pendragon had destroyed the last ‘classic’ painting, he turned to Jacob. He could have almost pitied him - if Jacob weren’t such a conceited jerk at every moment in life. Still, even the blackest heart had to feel at least a tiny bit of remorse toward someone watching what they’ve modeled their life after get destroyed right in their -

CRACK!

Pendragon had turned to deliver a snap roundhouse kick to the face of a kneeling Jacob, sending him down face first. The masked man had not a single drop of sympathy for Jacob nor the torment he endured at the hands of The Upper Class throughout the entirety of Whirlwind’s tenure. No, instead this was about emasculation. This was about sending a message and ending once and for all what was the ideal plight of those who would lord their own socio-economic status over others as though that somehow made them superior. Like a hunting trophy, Pendragon placed one foot forward over Jacob’s chest, and if this were a traditional match you could have counted to a thousand right here. But this wasn’t a traditional match, now was it…

Indeed, Pendragon would need to find some way to ignite the movie star, and quicker than his movies would light up the Sunset Strip, too. Pendragon began to drag Jacob along with him, albeit briefly as Jacob felt more like deadweight, almost sandbagged. You’d assume this annoyed Pendragon, though you couldn’t really physically tell for obvious reasons. With both hands he dragged Jacob slightly closer to the wall and sat him up. A deep breath later and Pendragon had leapt onto the side of the wall Matrix style, then quickly shot himself off the wall, catching Jacob with “Turning Tides” (Disaster Kick) right on the ear - but Jacob ducked! Pendragon’s kick went wide and he went down to the floor, penance for his desecration of the iconic movie director earlier.

Jacob sat up in disbelief! Did he outsmart the man that styled himself as a strategist?! Pendragon lay motionless on the floor, face down, confirming his suspicions. With a smirk, Jacob pulled Pendragon’s body half way up to a hunched over position, draping a leg across the back of his neck. With a shriek, he pushes forward, drilling Pendragon to the floor with the “Encore” (Overdrive)!

Jacob stood tall over his fallen rival, but now he too faced a similar problem; this was not a winning position. The only way to win is to ignite your opponent!

Jacob’s boasts remained echoing through the large room, as well as Pendragon’s ears as the segway rode off in the distance… Pendragon slowly sat up rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around only to see his rival once again nowhere to be found. However it didn't take him long as he heard what appeared to be maniacal laughter in the distance; Jacob was still here somewhere and losing his grip further on reality. Pendragon slowly picks himself up, losing the power to stand as he loses his footing a few times, only with a hand on the wall does he finally recover to a vertical base. Pendragon stumbles down the hallway as his hand softly glides over the wall in case he needed to catch himself as the death march goes on for what seems like forever as he finally reaches a door cracked ajar ever so slightly.

As he cautiously pushes the door open with his foot he hears the soft clanking of piano keys striking the chords. While the notes are occasionally off-tune or as if the wrong key was pressed it mostly resemble the medley of the theme of the movie Michael Bay is most commonly known for, Transformers. Immediately Pendragon is put on alert as he scans the room with light visibly at an all-time low save for strategically placed candle light, giving the room a grim ambiance. His steps echo on the marble tiles as he keeps his head on a swivel, anticipating an ambush at any moment as he suddenly appeared to be at a disadvantage inside his own home.

An object crashes to the ground causing the masked strategist to turn his head back and to the left. A shattering sound lead to him concluding it had to be something either made of porcelain or glass; likely a room decoration defiled and destroyed all in an attempt to put him into a state of hyper-vigilance – Jacob was trying to drive him into a state of paranoia and bait him into a costly error. Pendragon begins to carefully circle towards the piano trying to keep his back to the wall to focus his attention more on his field of view with one less area to watch. As he gets closer it becomes clear that a figure appears to be parked behind the bench and Pendragon takes a ready stance to strike at a moment's notice. As he makes his way to the bench however Jacob is nowhere to be found, only the mythical segway, the platform with wheels, with a recording device placed just above the keys! If it were possible to get a peak behind the mask for just a moment one could only guess that his eyes would've nearly fallen out of sockets out of shock and the sudden realization that he was about to fall into a trap.

Suddenly a fireball shoots in his general direction, coming perilously close to his mask as Jacob stood with a sinister grin and an object in his hands. But how could he throw a fireball with his hands full?

'Brother Pendragon, this is where our story comes to an end, with nothing more than sheer baptism by fire!'

Before Pendragon could retort another fireball flew right at his face with only a split second's decision to duck being the only thing between safety and having his mask caught on fire. With his eyes presumably fixed upon Jacob as he ducks, it became clear as day that, while the fireball briefly illuminated the room; Jacob was armed with a flamethrower!

'Oh shit!'

The Man in the Mask exclaimed in the heat of the moment as he knew if he didn't act quickly he would surely be burned to a crisp! Thinking quick on his feet he grabbed the platform with wheels, dragging it directly in front of him with his head ducked just below the handlebars taking a gamble on Jacob's vanity to eschew the direct line of fire he'd have to save his precious ride. The gamble paid off as Jacob hesitated and gritted his feet as Pendragon made a swift tactical retreat towards the door. Jacob managed to re-position himself and fire another stream of flame at his hated rival but this time more as a show of force, he shouted.

'Run, run like the coward you are! Soon you'll be begging for mercy at the feet of your superiors, The Upper Class!'

As Pendragon made his way back into the hallway he came across El Herrero once again.

'This is worse than I feared, he's brought a flamethrower into the building.'

El Herrero nodded as a grin slowly formed on his face. Pendragon tilted his head, afraid that the stress of the situation may have caused his friend to lose his mind as everything they had worked for was put at imminent and immediate risk.

'Herrero... please tell me Jacob didn't push you over the deep end. We need to think of something fast, any outside help would arrive far too late before the situation escalates beyond control; we're already rapidly approaching that threshold.'

'I have something.' The wily silver fox calmly retorted. 'Follow me.'

The masked duo walked down the opposite end of the hall until El Herrero stopped at what appeared to be a utility closet. Upon opening the door he peaks his body inside and fishes for something until he finally produced what appeared to be two fire extinguishers bound together with a contraption at the top that appeared to draw from both tanks with that accessory fashioned to a hose with a cone-like opening at the end.

'What in the world..' Pendragon had no clue what he was looking at... he wasn't sure what he was looking at was even stable as the usual gauges had been stripped from the contraption.

'What IS this?'

'Do you like it?'

'...I don't even know what this is. It looks like it used to be a pair of fire extinguishers.'

'That's because it is.'

'First of all why do we have two fire extinguishers... Frankenstein'd together for lack of a better term and second of all... how come I'm just NOW finding out about this?'

El Herrero chuckled as he spoke with a certain amount of marvel about his creation.

'Well Pendragon, do you remember that time in the Caribbean when our boat was nearly engulfed in flames due to an electrical problem on the ship's kitchen?'

'I do, it was a freak accident... what of it?'

'Well, had we not been in port there's a very good chance we would've perished at sea instead of being inconvenienced into spending a few extra days in Puerto Rico. Life has a way of throwing the unexpected your direction and I didn't want to ever be caught in a situation like that again. Sometimes one fire extinguisher isn't enough in a situation where seconds can be the difference in thousands of dollars in damages or a loss of health and life. So with a few parts I conjured up I decided to create the world's strongest fire extinguisher for home use. '

'Is this thing even stable? I mean... how did you manage to find the oddest little part to feed into both tanks like that... I'm not even sure there's a thing you could tear apart and cannibalize to make that kind of fit.'

'I printed it.'

'Printed it?'

'You know, a 3D printer.'

'WHEN did we get a 3D printer?' Pendragon was even more beside himself than he was mere moments before, and that was AFTER nearly getting torched, something which his body language gave away very easily with his highly animated movements.

'You entrusted me to, and I quote, 'take care of any loose ends' for acquiring furniture or other assorted objects and devices for the estate and that... broadly falls under that category. An old man needs hobbies; I like to build stuff.'

Pendragon didn't have time to argue over whether a 3D printer really counted as a necessity or not at the present moment. He picked up the tanks by their makeshift straps and fixes it to his back.

'Does it work?'

'One way to find out.'

Not the five words Pendragon was hoping to hear. He gripped the hose as his thumb came across a button, likely the switch that made the Frankenstein monster work.

'El Herrero, I need you to cut the power. If he's still inside that room he'll know something is amiss when the light from the hallway disappears if he's waiting in anticipation; and I'm sure he is. But he won't know if or when, if we play this right. If this thing works... we're only going to have one shot at getting this right.'

El Herrero swiftly took off in pursuit of his duty as Pendragon was about to walk towards his destination as something else seemed to catch his eye...

Meanwhile Jacob was pacing amongst the candlelit room as the Transformers medley was looping on repeat. His eyes were fixed upon the doorway knowing that Pendragon would sooner or later have to come to him or risk further destruction. Suddenly the light vanished from the hallway as darkness gripped the entire estate save for the candles. Jacob gripped his flamethrower tightly with his finger on the trigger ready to shoot anything that moves. He cautiously took several steps forward as suddenly....

WHOOOOUMP!

A soccer ball flew right at him! Jacob hastily pulled the trigger in a panic trying to hit the projectile but missed the ball as it hit him right in the shoulder! Certainly a lucky shot which served to throw Jacob completely off tilt! A careful observer would notice Pendragon's figure moving through the room from Jacob's blindside as the flame briefly illuminated the room but Hollywood Jesus was none the wiser to the feint. Jacob couldn't believe the audacity of being struck by such a lowly, common Wal-Mart quality sports ball, oh the humanity; the sheer horror of being struck by an object of such inferior quality! Jacob shook his head in disgust before turning to the left to see if Pendragon snuck his way in from the distraction; nothing. He turns his head to the right... and catches a face full of gas and foam from the extinguisher! Hollywood Jesus screams as he's blinded from a direct shot, covering his face as the flamethrower dangled precariously between his fingers. Pendragon wastes no time as he grabs him by the hair and drags him over to the piano before proceeding to slam his head repeatedly on the roof!

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

THUD!

Pendragon then lifts up the hood of the piano and slams Jacob's head underneath it, slamming the roof on top of his head several times for good measure leaving his foe hanging limp halfway into a piano.

The masked strategist then takes a seat at the bench, turning the Transformers theme off and casually tossing the recorder to the side before he created a melody himself as he slammed on the keys repeatedly in no particular order! Jacob's body writhed in sheer agony as Pendragon pounded on as many keys as possible, assaulting and overloading his foe's senses!

When the final note was played, Jacob's grip of the flamethrower relinquished itself, coincidentally finding itself in the hands of our protagonist…

Jacob was at the feet of Pendragon, who now only had to pull the trigger and end this horrific, fiery encounter. What's he doing? He stares down at Jacob for a moment more, almost as if he were thinking about something? Waiting for something. Weakly, Jacob slowly sat up, looking into the piercing eye slots of our masked man...AND FLIPS HIM THE DOUBLE BIRD!!

Incensed in rage now, Pendragon hesitates no longer! The camera pans around to face Pendragon as the man finally squeezes the trigger, causing flames to shoot out of the device, only the screams of Jacob and the smell of burning flesh could be seen and heard. A quick jump cut to Jacob shows the fire around him then a cut back to a relieved Pendragon. Was he a hero now, to his estate? His friend? Or did he become what he fought against, after burning a man alive...................

Pendragon dropped to the floor, his back against the piano, flamethrower at his side. His breaths were heavy with both relief and angst. The nightmare was over. The nightmare was over?

Fade.

~We cut back to the stunned look of Smith and the confused look of Hood~

Smith: What on EARTH…what a war!

Hood: Did that dragon guy just kill our newest signing?

Smith: It’s pro wrestling so I’m sure he’s okay…then again, I’m used to the way OCW does things. Whirlwind…might be a different story

Hood: What is Hotstuff thinking…accepting an inferno match against a guy covered head to toe with clothing and a mask?

Smith: Well, technically I think if any of that caught fire Hotstuff would have won…then again, this is OCW. Plus, we haven’t had an inferno match in years

Hood: That was fucking entertaining, though. I have to say. A great addition to tonight’s show. Definitely could tell that was a Welsh idea…NOT a Zybala one.

Smith: I was highly entertained. Those two brought IT

Hood: What is it?

Smith: It’s what they brought and I enjoyed it! Here’s hoping Pendragon shows up in OCW again

Hood: MORE masked people?

Smith: Would you relax? He’s talented…who cares if he’s got a mask

Hood: Ugh…all these fucking masks

Smith: Assuming Hotstuff survived…next time we will be seeing him, he will be bald

Hood: Ah, so he’s going for the Mack O’Connor look

Smith: In a way, sure

Hood: Nice…why fight male patterned baldness, ya know?

Smith: It’s not as if he was going bald…did you see that thick hair? He lost his hair because he caught fire!

Hood: Only in pro wrestling would that previous sentence make ANY sense.

Smith: Indeed…well folks we look forward to seeing Jacob Hotstuff in the very near future. He’s going to be a tremendous force in OCW. Now, it’s time to move on…we’ve got a Paradigm Title match to get to!

Hood: Axel Veiga time!

Smith: Andrea Hernandez is more like it

Hood: You know these women will never fuck you. You can stop cheering for them

~The crowd surrounding the theater are ready for action! It is kinda hot in Aurora. I mean theme parks are always hot. But when you’re seated amongst thousands of sweaty, smelly wrestling fans it can get extra muggy. Belvedere clears his throat. The crowd goes wild with a “FINALLY!” chant! Belvedere looks puzzled. It hasn’t been THAT long since the last match. I think these fans just want non stop wrestling. Anyway…Belvedere begins speaking~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the Paradigm Championship!!

Belvedere: This match will be a Submission Match. The only way a person can win is by submitting their opponent. Introducing first…

~”Vega Core” by Mick Gordon hits. The fans BOOOOO. Slowly we see Veiga emerge from the back. He takes his time walking through the skinny entrance cut through the crowd. Fans lean over the railing to yell insults at him. He ignores each and every one. He’s got his calm eyes and almost dead demeanor focused on the ring. He reaches the ring area. His boots almost glide across the wooden surface. He rolls into the ring and pops to one knee with his head down, waiting for his introduction~

Belvedere: From Newcastle, England…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 220lbs…he is the current Heel of the Month…ladies and gentlemen…I give to you…Axel Veiga!!!

~Veiga pops to his feet and with an extended thumb and pinky he slits his own throat. A sick grimace finds its way on his face. He backs into a corner, turns and drops to one knee, his back now facing the ring~

Smith: Axel Veiga! He looks fired up, Hood

Hood: I guess. The guy always looks like that

Smith: He has a passion for violence. The man is able to release all his anxieties and emotions while competing

Hood: That does not sound good for Andrea Hernandez

Smith: Oh, I’ve got a feeling she can handle her own

Belvedere: And his opponent…

~The crowd cheers. "Ultranumb" by Blue Stahli hits! Veiga remains in the corner, on one knee, back to the ring, giving Andrea’s entrance zero attention. Andrea emerges from the back. She stands, taking in the scene and the atmosphere. The fans go wild when they see her emerge. They chant her name. She tries to subdue a smile, but is unable. She nods, takes in a deep breath and charges toward the ring. She hops onto the wooden surface surrounding the ring and slides in under the bottom rope. She pops to her feet and throws her hands in the air! There is passion and intensity in her eyes. The crowd leaps to their feet with a tremendous response~

Belvedere: From Sedona, Arizona…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 125lbs…Andrea Hernandez!!!

Cap Slock: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. I PRESENT TO YOU THE NEW OCW PARADIGM CHAMPIONSHIP!

~Cap Slock removes the black cloth to reveal a shinier, newer replica of the OCW Paradigm Championship! The crowd cheers. Andrea emerges from her corner. She steps to the center of the ring and eyes the title. It’s obvious by her expression that she wants that belt more, at this moment, than anything she’s ever wanted in her career. Veiga suddenly rises from his corner and turns around, facing the center of the ring~

Smith: I guess OCW officials couldn’t track down the Paradigm Title that Mack pawned

Hood: Or they just decided to waste more of Buffett’s money. CLASSIC ZYBALA

~Veiga reaches the center of the ring. He, too, looks at the belt. Cap Slock raises it high in the air. The crowd chants ‘YES!’~

Smith: It is a nice looking belt

Hood: Well no shit. You think we’d have some shitty looking belt?

Smith: No

~Veiga suddenly lunges forward and head butts Andrea in the face!!! The crowd BOOOOS! Cap Slock and Belvedere back away and exit the ring with the belt, quickly. This just leaves Scruff. He looks around, confused. Veiga throws Andrea into a corner. She holds her nose, stunned. Veiga throws a few knees into her midsection. He follows those up with a forearm uppercut. Andrea nearly flies over the corner to the outside. Veiga whips her across the ring. She runs toward the opposite corner. Veiga charges in behind. Andrea reaches the corner…grabs the ropes and jumps into the air, over Veiga. Veiga runs front first into a corner. He staggers back and is dropped with a backstabber from Andrea!! The crowd cheers! Andrea pops to her feet and checks her nose. It isn’t bleeding…it’s just red and irritated. She throws her head at Scruff. Scruff nods and he calls for the bell. The bell rings! The match is now underway~

Smith: Axel tried to gain an early advantage but was unable to maintain it

Hood: Are you shitting me? The bell hadn’t even sounded yet. It was all fair game

Smith: Yea, right

~Hernandez stands over Veiga, who is on his back. She stomps on his shoulder. Axel rips his shoulder away after the first stomp and rolls under the bottom rope, to the apron. Andrea grabs a hold of the top rope and leaps into the air…she brings her legs together and swings back down to kick Veiga off the apron. Axel moves! Andrea’s body shoots under the bottom rope. She lands on her feet outside the ring, safely. Axel gets to his feet. Andrea turns to face him. Axel runs across the apron and throws a kick into Andrea’s face!! Andrea falls down, smacking hard onto the wooden surface outside the ring! The fans go ‘ooohhh!’ Veiga takes a seat on the apron, catching his breath and rubbing his shoulder~

Smith: Vicious kick by Axel. He is one mean, mean man

Hood: The guy has what it takes

Smith: If you’ll notice…Andrea went for the shoulder. I think she might be setting him up for the Fujiwara Armbar

Hood: Conniving bitch!

Smith: It’s called strategy!

~Veiga hops off the apron, landing next to the body of Andrea. She’s covering her face. Veiga snares a handful of Andrea’s hair and jerks her into a seated position. He rips her hands away from her face to reveal a severely irritated nose. It doesn’t look to be bleeding, yet. But it’s close. Veiga raises his right arm. He slowly clinches his gloved hand into a fist and brings it crashing down at Andrea’s nose. Hernandez, though, moves out of the way. She rotates her hips, grabs Veiga’s arm and throws him over with an armbar!!! Veiga’s unable to prevent Andrea from executing the move. She stretches out with his arm all to herself!! Veiga writhes and wiggles on the outside, grasping for something, anything to help him get out of this predicament! The crowd goes wild! They chant “TAP BITCH TAP!” Veiga is refusing to comply~

Smith: She’s got him in an armbar! It isn’t the Fujiwara Armbar…which is a submission she specializes in…but it’s enough to potentially force Veiga into tapping

Hood: So many armbars!

Smith: There are variations of the armbar, yes. Even if Veiga doesn’t tap here this will weaken the necessary joints making an attempted Fujiwara Armbar that much more dangerous

Hood: We are spending way too much time talking about armbars

~Andrea cranks on the arm. The sweat on Veiga’s arm and her hands causes her grip to slip. She sits up to strengthen the hold. As she does, Veiga reaches over and grabs her by the hair! He yanks her forward. She’s still get his leg wrapped between her legs. Veiga rolls to his side…the side nearest Andrea. He maintains control of her hair. She won’t fight him off…she refuses to let go of his arm. Veiga gains leverage and he shoves Andrea’s head back, smashing it into the wooden surface!! The fans boooo! Andrea lets go of his arm and lays on her back, staring up into the lights overhead. Veiga sits up, ripping his arm away. He clutches at his shoulder, the left shoulder…the same shoulder she stomped on earlier~

Smith: Dang it! She was losing her grip…tried to adjust and paid the price

Hood: Alright! C’mon, Veiga…make her pay!

Smith: A Veiga fan, eh?

Hood: #HimToo

~Veiga gets to his feet. He snares Andrea by the hair again, using his right hand. She’s still dazed. He pulls her to her feet and tosses her back into the ring under the bottom rope. He climbs up onto the apron and steps through the ropes. Andrea is front first, on the mat, trying to get to all fours. Veiga drops a quick, decisive knee into her back! Andrea yells in pain. Veiga drops another knee into her back! She flattens out onto the mat. Veiga keeps his knee in her back, right beneath the shoulder blades. He digs it into her back as hard as she can. Andrea lets out a painful cry~

Smith: Ouch! He is putting so much pressure into her back and spine and shoulders…this is really going to hamper her movements moving forward

Smith: You should remember from last week. Veiga is capable of applying a very dangerous and painful chicken wing camel clutch

Hood: That move already sounds better than the Sushiware Armbar

Smith: FUJIWARA

~Veiga releases the pressure. Andrea rolls quickly onto her back, arching it…she reaches for it…the pain is immense. Axel snares Andrea by the hair, yanking her to her feet. He tries to apply a Full Nelson…Andrea throws her head back! It hits Veiga in the face. She sprints forward, into the ropes. She bounces off and leaps into the air…Veiga catches her, spins her around and drops her across his knee with a Tilt-a-Whirl Backbreaker!! The crowd BOOOOOS!! Andrea kicks her feet into the mat with her back arched…she’s grimacing, fighting through the pain. Veiga remains on one knee, wiping some sweat from his brow, calmly~

Smith: He is devastating her back! This is the kind of punishment that could take some serious time off of her career, Hood

Hood: Yea well maybe she’ll retire and go have kids

Smith: RUDE

Hood: I’m just saying…if women quit having kids and cooking for their husbands then the human race will go into extinction

Smith: You narrow minded fool

~Veiga returns to his feet. He kicks Andrea onto her front. He steps over Andrea…placing her body between his legs. He’s positioned to attempt his Chicken Wing Camel Clutch. He reaches over, grabbing one of Andrea’s arms. Instantly, Andrea recalls last week. She rips her arm away and crawls between Veiga’s legs. She pops to her feet behind Veiga. She leaps into the air, wraps both legs around Veiga’s head, yanks back and drops Veiga on his head with a reverse frankensteiner!!! Veiga lands on top of his head and falls front first onto the mat! The crowd goes wild!! Andrea crawls into a corner and sits up, placing her back against the bottom buckle. She moves her back around, trying to ease the pain and pressure~

Smith: What a move! What athleticism!

Hood: Son of a bitch! Where did that come from?

Smith: She’s still got plenty of fight left in her, Hood

Hood: Why won’t these women just give up! THIS IS A MAN’S WORLD, DAMNIT

~Veiga gets to his feet. He stumbles around. The trauma of landing on his head has evidently rattled his brain. Andrea reaches up, snaring the middle rope and pulls herself to her feet. She charges at Veiga. He extends his hand and grabs her around the throat! Andrea’s eyes widen. She kicks Veiga in the shin. He stumbles. She takes both hands and chops down on his arm…he releases his hold. Andrea reaches for his left arm, grabs it and tosses him with an armdrag!!! She holds on and applies pressure onto his shoulder! Veiga winces. He appears to be in a frustrating amount of pain~

Smith: Great move by Andrea! A simple armdrag puts Veiga in position to have that shoulder weakened…setting him up for the Fujiwara Armbar

Hood: Okay, just fucking admit it…you like saying Fukimara

Smith: It’s FUJIWARA

Hood: Is that even a word? Sounds like gobbledygook to me

~Veiga uses his advantage in weight to work his body toward the ropes, dragging Andrea along. He wraps his feet around the bottom rope. Scruff forces a break. Andrea holds on for the full five count before releasing. She stands and waits for Veiga to get back to his feet. Axel takes his sweet, sweet time. He stands and turns, facing Andrea. He puts his fists up like he’s ready to box. It’s slightly perplexing~

Smith: Axel the…boxer?

Hood: That fall on his head is still impacting his decision making

Smith: Perhaps

~Veiga is leading with his left side. It’s strange considering that’s the side that’s taken the most punishment. He throws a weak, halfhearted looking left jab. Andrea, focused on that left arm and shoulder, snares the arm. Veiga, though, pounces on the opportunity. He lunges forward with his right arm, smacking Andrea in the face!! She staggers back…she tries to let go of Veiga’s left arm but he snares her by the wrist. He then pulls her forward and drops her with a short arm clothesline!! Andrea turns inside out, landing on her back! She arches it instantly, letting out a scream! Veiga steps toward the ropes and leans into them, taking a breath. He hangs his left arm over the top rope, propping his shoulder up…taking the pressure off~

Smith: Both competitors have had portions of their body weakened. They are setting up for a painful finish

Hood: Veiga is ahead, if you ask me. I’d rather have one arm over no back

Smith: Well, yea, I can’t really argue that preference

Hood: That’s because I speak the truth. No FAKE NEWS over here

~Andrea rolls onto her front and pushes up to one knee. She struggles but gets to her feet. It’s apparent her back is battered, bruised, and beginning to tighten up. Veiga removes his arm from over the top rope. He rotates it…he stops halfway and grabs at it, showing that it, too is in a painful state. Veiga approaches Andrea and grabs her by the hair with his right arm. He lunges forward for a head butt. Andrea ducks, averting the painful blow. She throws her shoulder into Veiga’s abdomen. Axel staggers into a corner. His arms are draped over the top rope. Andrea reaches for the left arm. Veiga reacts instantly with a kick into her right knee! Andrea stumbles back. Axel charges out of the ring with a right arm clothesline. Andrea does the MATRIX bend, avoiding the blow. She lets out a yell, reaching for her back! She falls to the mat, grimacing. Veiga looks down and smirks~

Smith: Oh no! Her back may have just given out

Hood: if her back’s fucked…man, that’s going to ruin her career

Smith: I know, it’s going to…

Hood: She’ll have to get a breast reduction and then, I mean, who the hell is gonna want to pay to see her after that?

Smith: How dare you say such things!

~Veiga drops an elbow with his right arm across her throat. She rolls over, protecting her throat. Axel returns to his feet and drops an elbow with his right arm over her back!! Andrea screams in pain, rolling back over, realizing her back is more vulnerable at this point than her throat. Veiga stands over her…his confidence is beaming. He snares Andrea by the hair…he pulls her to her feet, lifts her up and drops her across his knee with a Backbreaker!! Andrea again screams out in pain. Veiga, on his knees, smiles with confidence. The crowd BOOOS! An ‘ASSHOLE’ chant sounds out~

Smith: What is this man’s goal? To cripple her?

Hood: Hey, it’s like you say…he’s just trying to win the match, Smith

Smith: But this…this just feels excessive

Hood: To you, maybe. To me it feels justified

~Veiga grabs Andrea and rolls her onto her front. He maneuvers on top of her and snares one of her arms. Andrea instantly knows what’s coming. She’s been in this situation before. She squirms and wiggles and manages to get her foot on the bottom rope. Scruff shows the foot to Axel. Axel is pissed. He stands and grabs Scruff by the shirt…it looks as though he might lose control. Scruff, terrified, warns Axel he’ll call for the bell. Veiga’s anger subsides and he lets Scruff go~

Smith: Don’t get mad at Scruff ya jerk! He’s not the one breaking the rules here!

Hood: How is Axel breaking the rules?

Smith: Trying to administer a hold while Andrea is in the ropes

Hood: Oh please…he didn’t know she was in the ropes.

~He turns around. Andrea is on her feet. Pain is all over her face. She fights through it and grabs Veiga by the left arm. She jumps up, puts her knees into his arm and brings him down, jarring his left arm and shoulder!!! Veiga grabs his shoulder in pain, rolling around!! Andrea rolls over, holding her back and kicking her feet into the mat. The crowd pops~

Smith: A good move by Andrea…but how much damage is this doing to her back?

Hood: Too much, I think she should quit. She may not be able to perform life’s greatest function…for a woman, anyway

Smith: What’s that? Empowering young women in leading by example?

Hood: Having children

Smith: GOOD HEAVENS

~Andrea fights through her pain and gets on all fours. She crawls toward Veiga, reaching for his arm. He rolls away, under the ropes and onto the apron. Andrea gets to her knees and leans forward, taking some pressure off her back. Veiga gets to his feet, holding his left shoulder. Andrea struggles to her feet. Veiga spots her and positions his left arm away from the ring. Andrea charges in. Veiga braces. He reaches for her. She performs a 619 type maneuver…but instead of hitting anything, she just spins around Veiga and lands on her feet next to his left arm. Before Veiga can react, she grabs his left arm and tosses him off the apron to the wood surface on the outside with an arm drag!!! Veiga hits hard and immediately reaches for his left arm! He’s engulfed with pain! Andrea is on her back once again…it didn’t enjoy a pain free collision with the unyielding wood surface. She arches her back and grimaces~

Smith: What a move! That might have ripped Veiga’s arm right out of the socket!

Hood: Maybe the most devastating arm drag in OCW history

Smith: It could be!

~Andrea fights through the pain and gets to her feet. She heads over to Veiga who is still down. She sizes up the situation. She can’t be counted out. She also can’t win the match from out there. She’s in no WO-man’s land. She’s got Veiga in a vulnerable state. So, she takes the best route available to her. She grabs his left arm and locks in her devastating Fujiwara Armbar!! Veiga yells out in pain!! Andrea cranks back, trying to rip his arm off his body! The fans are going crazy! They are yelling “TAP!” even though it wouldn’t count. Veiga, however, is a belligerent man. He’s refusing to tap. He’s doing his best to fight through the pain~

Smith: Can’t say I blame her…she may not can win the match out there…but she can definitely do serious damage to his arm, setting up a win INSIDE the ring

Hood: I swear this company is out to get Veiga. First Rhodes pulls a stunt like this on Veiga…now Andrea? WEAK ASS BOOKING

Smith: Well if he were, ya know, a little NICER…better things might happen

Hood: Fuck being nice. Tony the Spider is nice…where is he? At home…WASHING HIS TIGHTS

Smith: You can’t fool me, Hood. Tony doesn’t own tights

~Veiga finally stops fighting. He seems to go limp. Andrea cranks and cranks but gets nothing in response. She lets go and stands, looking down at Veiga. She turns him over to find him playing possum! He reaches up with his right hand and thumbs Andrea in the eye!! Andrea stumbles to the side, away from the ring. Veiga struggles to his feet, clutching his left arm. He staggers toward the ring and rolls inside. He slides into a corner, holding his left arm. The crowd boos his trickery~

Smith: That charlatan!

Hood: What are you talking about? She was trying to break his fucking shoulder, he had to do something. If you want to know the truth…it’s pretty fucking impressive that he was able to play dead while dealing with that much pain

Smith: He’s just so sneaky and conniving….I…I don’t like him

Hood: I’m 100% sure he doesn’t care

~Andrea recovers her sight. She spots Veiga seated in the corner, nursing his wounded arm. She runs forward, sliding into the ring. Veiga appears helpless. He looks up at Andrea and points toward his arm, asking for a reprieve. The fans yell “NO!” Andrea nods along with them, refusing to grant any such relief. She heads his way. The weak and downed Veiga appears to accept his fate. She stands over him…he reaches up with his right arm and grabs her by the waist band of her pants, yanking down! Andrea falls and smacks her face into the middle buckle!! She flips backwards, holding her face in pain. Veiga remains in the corner, holding onto his left arm~

Smith: What a villain!

Hood: Why are the smart ones always labeled as villains. She walked right into that shit!

~Axel stands and marches toward Andrea. Andrea is on all fours. She looks up and gets a boot to the face!! She falls to the side. Axel kicks her onto her stomach and gets into position. He snares one arm. He then works his hand back and forth, getting some feeling into that left shoulder joint. He snares her other arm and cranks back with the Chicken Wing Camel Clutch!!! Andrea yells out in pain! Her eyes widen! Her back is being pulled to its limit! The fans plead with her to hang on. She kicks her feet around, looking for the bottom rope…but she’s too close to the center of the ring. Veiga continues to pull back. We see some discomfort on his face…the left arm is weak and injured. It’s screaming out in pain while helping the right arm apply this move~

Smith: Hang in there, Andrea! I don’t know how long Axel can keep this hold in tact

Hood: Long enough…she’s about to break…literally

Smith: Why would you with that on someone?

Hood: I didn’t wish it…I’m just calling it like I see it

~Veiga fights through the pain of his shoulder, adding pressure to the move. Andrea, too, is fighting through pressure, trying to keep from giving up. Her arms are restricted, so Scruff is looking for verbal confirmation. She continues to shake her head “NO!” The crowd is rallying behind her…they are clapping and stomping. Axel yells out “TAP!” It’s clear the pain is increasing his level of impatience. His left arm finally gives in! He releases the hold and rolls off of Andrea, holding his left arm. He gets to his knees, looking at Hernandez. He is PISSED~

Smith: That left arm is damaged goods. I don’t know how he’s going to make her submit

Hood: Gotta work that back over more…he can do it

Smith: Perhaps…but it’s already pretty weak

Hood: Getting weaker by the move. I mean she is a woman, after all. Science tells us that their bones aren’t as strong men’s.

Smith: I never learned that!

~Andrea is still on her belly, reaching for her back. She’s finding it hard to move. Not in the sense that she can’t…it just hurts. Veiga crawls her way and reaches out for her. Andrea, pulling an Axel Veiga type move, lures him in and swings her hips. She wraps her legs around his left arm, rolls him near the center of the ring and locks him into the Fujiwara Armbar!! The crowd leaps to their feet! They sense that this could be it! Veiga keeps from yelling. He internalizes his pain. He winces and grits his teeth. He looks around, trying to find an escape. Andrea leans back…Veiga’s left shoulder looks ready to pop~

Smith: He might want to think about giving it up. This could sideline him for awhile. Give it up, put some ice on that shoulder and bounce back. He’ll get more opportunities. He’s one of the best we’ve got

Hood: You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Giving it up so your precious little Andrea Hernandez could be HANDED the win

Smith: I’m just as concerned for his well-being as I am for hers, Hood

Hood: FAKE NEWS

~Andrea, like Veiga, is feeling the impact of her wounded body. She’s frustrated he won’t give in. Neither competitor is the quitting type. She jerks back, violently, hoping to maybe dislocate his shoulder. In doing so, she tweaks her back! She lets out a high pitched scream and releases Veiga’s arm! She rolls over, holding her back, kicking her legs. Scruff slides in to check on her. The crowd goes quiet~

Smith: Oh no

Hood: That’s it…she’s done. Her back…it be fucked

Smith: She’s fought so valiantly tonight…I’d hate for this to end due to an injury

Hood: Then we shouldn’t let bald people like Zybala book these types of matches

Smith: HE’S NOT BALD

~Veiga sits up, holding his arm. He sees Andrea in pain, being checked on. He holds onto his left shoulder. He works it back and forth, grimacing with each movement. He starts to grow impatient with the consultation~

Smith: Veiga not appreciating the stoppage

Hood: Of course not…either call the match or leave her alone. This timeout is bullshit

Smith: It is rather ill timed

~Veiga has had enough. He gets to his feet and tosses Scruff aside. Scruff tumbles, roughly. He snares Andrea by her hair and drags her into the center of the ring. The fans and yells and scream at Axel to stop. He isn’t listening. He smells blood. He slams her face first into the mat using his right hand. He then gets into position for the chicken wing camel clutch~

Smith: That is no way to treat an injured competitor!

Hood: She can always quit, Smith

Smith: You and I both know she isn’t going to do that…her whole life she’s been told no. She’s been told she isn’t good enough. The last thing she’d ever want to do is prove those naysayers right

Hood: You can’t fight the truth, Smith

~Veiga snares one of Andrea’s arms, using his right hand. He reaches for her other arm, using his left hand. He pauses. His left arm is fucked up. He’s trying to get it to function. He’s trying to fight through the pain. Andrea swiftly rolls over, taking advantage…she wraps her legs around his prone left arm and locks in another Fujiwara armbar~

Smith: Fujiwara! Fujiwara!

Hood: SPEAK ENGLISH

~Veiga, in immense pain, looks around. His fist is clinched. He’s PISSED that he gave her this opportunity. Scruff returns to his feet. Veiga, out of frustration, slams his fist into the mat two times, yelling ‘FUCK!’ Scruff perks up and calls for the bell! The crowd goes wild!!~

Smith: Veiga submitted! He gave up!

Hood: Uh, no he didn’t

Smith: He most certainly did! Look, Scruff even called for the bell!

Hood: This is some fucking bullshit!

~Veiga holds his arm. Andrea has released the hold. She rolls over, holding her back. Scruff rushes to the side of the ring and grabs the Paradigm Title from Belvedere. The crowd has quieted as there does seem to be a bit of confusion~

~The place erupts! Axel realizes what’s happened. He gets to his feet and grabs Scruff. Scruff drops the title near Andrea and turns to face Veiga. Veiga asks Scruff what happened. Scruff signals that Axel tapped out. Axel explains that he pounded his fist into the mat out of frustration. Scruff responds that he saw that as a tap out. Axel turns around, shaking his head. He’s about to blow~

Smith: Axel does not agree with the decision

Hood: Because he did NOT tap out

Smith: Look, he pounded his fist into the mat. He can’t blame Scruff…after all he’d been through, for thinking that was a tap out

Hood: Oh, sure…meanwhile little miss Hernandez screams out after her back nearly breaks and he huddles over her nursing her back to health? That’s fucked up, man

~Axel balls up his right fist and turns around to punch Scruff. Scruff backs way and trips over Andrea. He rolls out of the ring, an act of self preservation. Axel shakes his head. He then looks down at Andrea who is on all fours. Her back is killing her. The Paradigm Title is near. Her trembling hands reach for it~

Smith: Leave her alone…this isn’t HER fault

Hood: Of course it is! It’s ALL her fault

~Veiga reaches down and takes the belt away before she can grab it. She looks up, helpless. Veiga swings the belt with his right hand right into her face! She goes face down onto the mat. Veiga secures the belt under his right arm and drops it across her back. He then takes the belt and lays it on the mat. He picks Andrea up…hooks her under his right arm and drop her with a Sidewalk Slam on top of the belt!! Andrea yells out in pain, arching her back. OCW medics rush into the ring, led by The Knife Man! His giant knife is waving all over the place. One of the medics asks Axel about his shoulder. He delivers a right forearm to this guy’s face. He steps through the ropes, onto the apron. The fans are boooing the hell out of this man~

Smith: He’s ruined her night! Her moment!

Hood: Yea well it doesn’t compare to the ruination of HIS moment. This was HIS night…not HERS

Smith: You are warped…just like he is!

~Veiga hops off the apron and heads to the back, clutching his shoulder. Andrea is looked at by medics. She reaches over, looking for her belt. The Knife Man picks it up and gives it to her. She clutches it as the medics evaluate her condition~

Smith: I hope her back is okay…regardless…she is the OCW Paradigm and nobody an take that away from her

Hood: Ugh

Smith: As for Veiga…well, from a talent standpoint he certainly deserves another opportunity. But his attitude…well, it’s deplorable

Marcus Welsh: I want you to tell that son of a bitch that if he doesn’t show up to Massacre next Monday and compete…you tell him if he no shows…you tell that stupid goofy ass rabbit that he is FIRED.

~Cap Slock looks at the medics. They all seem surprised that the one thing, in this physical condition that Welsh would want is for Cap Slock to threaten a member of his roster~

Marcus Welsh: You do that, Captain. You tell him. And emphasize the fired part. And, remember…I’m the boss. I’m in charge.

~Welsh winks at Cap Slock before putting the oxygen mask back on. Cap Slock nods and stands upright. He heads off to contact Muffles the Bunny. We cut back to Smith and Hood~

Smith: Our GM is obviously a bit loopy.

Hood: He makes perfect sense to me. He’s the boss, Smith. And he’s tired of fucking around. It’s time for Muffles to get his shit together

Smith: It has been awhile since we’ve seen Muffles. He is, arguably, the most talented member of the roster with such little accomplished. Could this be the fire Muffles needs to break through?

Hood: Maybe…but if not, fuck him. Jacob Hotstuff will take his place!

Smith: There is a ton of young talent looking to break through…we’ve already seen Andrea Hernandez do just that. And, well, next up…a not so young…but a very new talent in Mike Harrison looks to do the same! The Craze Title is up next!

~We cut back to the theater where all the in ring action is taking place. Everything is in order, having been reset for the next match. Belvedere is in the ring. In the background we hear the high powered Marvel coaster WOOSH through a loop. The fans watch in awe…several have already ridden it once…but are eager to ride it again. Then there are the pussies who are too scared to ride the damn thing. They just look on like the guy who is too afraid to ask the hot girl out…wondering what the ride would be like if they had the guts to take it. This is when Belvedere clears his throat. The crowd turns their attention back to the ring~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the OCW Craze Championship!

~The people erupt with cheers. A ‘CRAZE’ chants starts~

Belvedere: This match will be a Last Man Standing match. In order to win this match you must incapacitate your opponent for at least ten seconds. The first man to keep their opponent down for ten seconds will be named the winner and will walk away with the OCW Craze Championship! Introducing first…

~'Pyscho' by Muse begins to fill the arena. A pretty strong portion of the audience cheers. Mike Harrison appears from backstage. He stands, taking in the scene. He’s impressed but not too impressed. Guy is a veteran, after all. He takes in a deep breath and heads toward the ring area. He hustles up some steps, taking him up onto the wooden stage. He walks up the ring steps, enters in through the ropes and stands near the center. He looks around as the fans cheer him on~

Belvedere: From Blackpool, England…standing six feet tall and weighing in at 185lbs…he is the reigning Newcomer of the Month…Mike Harrison!!

Smith: He may be new to OCW but Harrison is a long time veteran of this business. He will not be in awe of the platform tonight.

Hood: He’s probably got more experience than the NASA flunky

Smith: More outside experience, for sure. But Ed is an OCW veteran…and that counts for something

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~The cheers triple! The crowd shows who their favorite is in this one. An ‘ED’ chant fills the arena. Several fans wave around little light up rockets that they paid WAY TOO MUCH for earlier in the park. “Rocket Man” by Elton John hits! Ed Houston appears from backstage! The Craze Championship is around his waist. He’s carrying one of the light up rockets as well! He walks down the entry way and stops, finding a cute girl who is over 18. He hands her the rocket~

Smith: What a nice gesture

Hood: Ed just put his rocket in that girl’s hand

Smith: Why do you have to make it sound so gross!

Hood: Oh come on…you act like Ed doesn’t know what he’s doing. He passed up several kids…including a few who were handicapped so he could give that to the cutest, over eighteen year old female within reach

~The female blows Ed a kiss. Houston smiles…he’s suddenly fired up! He runs up the steps, onto the wooden platform and sprints toward the ring. He slides in under the bottom rope and pops to his feet. He removes his Craze Championship, climbs the nearest corner and holds it up for all the fans to see. They chant his name~

Belvedere: From Miami, Florida…standing 5’9 and weighing in at 175lbs…he is the OCW Craze Champion….Ed Houston!!!!

~Houston hops off the middle buckle. Harrison is in his corner, watching on. Ed hands the title to Belvedere who takes it out of the ring with him. Ed backs into his corner. Scruff is in the middle of the ring. He signals for the bell to sound. It does~

Smith: And we are underway! One of these men must be beat down so severely that they cannot answer a ten count

Hood: Judging by the two…ya know, face value and all that…I can’t see Harrison getting beat down that bad

Smith: He’s a veteran…I’m sure he’s been in Last Man Standing matches before…which means he knows what to avoid

Hood: Meanwhile Ed is likely to crash and burn at some point, knocking himself out.

~Harrison approaches Houston. Houston remains light on his feet, bouncing around. Harrison reaches up and moves in for a lock up. Houston dodges, quickly. Harrison lowers his arms pivots, keeping Houston in front of him. Harrison lifts his arms up, again. He tries for another lock up…again Houston quickly dodges the lock up. Harrison places his hands on his hips in frustration. Houston continues to bounce around, showing a tremendous amount of energy~

Smith: Interesting start to this one…Harrison is wily and crafty…he is the veteran

Hood: Which means he’s old

Smith: Older, anyway…it would stand to reason that Houston has the stamina advantage in this due to his youth and build

Hood: Yep, Ed can go for quite a while…unless he’s lying with a woman. Then his stamina shrinks down next to nothing

Smith: And how would you know that?

Hood: Ran into Ed’s favorite stripper. She thinks he’s hilarious

~Harrison remains in his position. Ed bounces around the ring until he’s in front of Harrison. Mike shakes his head, frustrated. He glares at Ed. Houston stops bouncing and seems to give in. He extends his arms, ready for a lock up. Mike is wary. He looks around, sighs and goes to lock up with Ed. Houston ducks Mike’s arms and bounces around once again. Mike stumbles into the ropes. He leans over the top rope and stares down at the apron in frustration~

Smith: Ed Houston is starting to get on the nerves of the veteran Mike Harrison

Hood: Definitely not NASA material

Smith: Which one?

Hood: The one who flunked out, obviously

~Harrison shoves off the ropes and turns toward Ed. He motions for Ed to come at him. Houston bobs and weaves, bouncing around. Harrison continues to look for a lock up. Houston, again, acts like he’s willing to engage. This time, however, Harrison dives at Ed’s legs! He snares Ed’s left leg! Ed hops around, trying to pull his leg away. Harrison is on his knees trying to hold on. Houston is able to yank it away!! Harrison remains on his knees, staring at the ground. He’s beginning to sweat. Houston hits the ropes, bounces off…he steps on Harrison’s back…jumps off…lands on the top rope, springboards backwards, pulls off a backflip and lands on his feet in the center of the ring. The crowd applauds his athleticism. Houston holds his arms out in triumph. Harrison slaps the mat with his hands and pops to his feet~

Smith: Ed is too quick, too fast for Harrison…and he knows it

Hood: Harrison is PISSED

Smith: Indeed…I think his gameplan has been completely disrupted. He might have to come up with an alternative strategy

Hood: There’s no fucking time machine for him to hop into and retrieve his younger, quicker self

Smith: There is a time machine ride somewhere in the park…at least that’s what someone told me

Hood: Really? Sounds lame

~Harrison yells at Houston to come at him. Houston shakes his head ‘no’. He continues bouncing circles around Harrison. Mike is visibly frustrated. If he could only get his hands on Houston. Ed backs into a corner and hops to the top. He’s perched at the top, seated. Harrison charges in. Houston kicks his legs to the side and jumps to his feet. He starts to walk along the top rope. Harrison grabs the rope and shakes it. Houston performs a somersault off the top rope onto the canvas, landing on his feet. He takes off toward the ropes. Harrison slides into the center of the ring onto his belly…Houston hops over Harrison and hits the ropes a second time. Harrison gets to his feet and leap frogs Houston. Houston hits the ropes again…he bounces off again. Harrison bends at the knees like he’s going to perform a second leap frog. Houston runs at him. Instead of a leap frog, Harrison lunges at Houston and knocks him down with a shoulder tackle!!! Houston hits the mat hard! Harrison crawls over, quickly and secures Houston in a chin lock! Houston grimaces. Harrison, breathing heavily, leans onto Houston cutting off his breathing while catching his own breath~

~Houston struggles for air. Harrison seems to be regaining most of his wind. Houston reaches up and grabs a handful of Harrison’s hair. Mike shakes his head, trying to get Ed to let go. Houston takes this opportunity to get to his feet. Mike holds onto the chin lock…but it’s weakened due to the positional change. Ed throws a few sharp elbows into Mike’s gut. Harrison releases the chin lock. Houston stands upright, leaps into the air and smacks Harrison in the chin with a picture perfect drop kick! Harrison stumbles into the ropes. He leans against the top rope, dazed. Ed charges forward with a big clothesline sending Harrison over the top rope and tumbling onto the wooden surface outside the ring~

Smith: Nice comeback by the Craze Champion

Hood: Pulling Harrison’s hair like a bitch.

Smith: It worked, didn’t it?

Hood: I wonder how much hair pulling NASA allows…probably none

~Ed remains in the ring. He looks over the top rope, waiting for Harrison to get to his feet. Mike finally does. He stumbles around a bit before stabilizing. Ed grabs onto the top rope and slingshots over. He comes down legs first looking for a Hurricanrana. Harrison holds on!! He’s got Ed hanging in the air. He swings Ed around and SLAMS him into the ring steps!! He lifts Ed up and powerbombs him onto the wooden surface!! Houston hits hard! Harrison lets go and falls against the apron…leaning, catching his breath. Scruff slides out of the ring and looks down at Ed. The fans give a mixed response~

Smith: This the first potential ten count of the match!

Hood: Yea, if that idiot Scruff would start counting

Smith: He just slid out there! Give the man some time

Hood: I think we’ve given Scruff plenty of time

~Scruff begins the count. He yells out “ONE!” Harrison thinks about heading into the ring but decides against it, remembering how tough it was to catch Ed initially. So, he just stands over Ed making sure that if/when he gets up he won’t be going anywhere. Scruff yells “FOUR!” The crowd begins to get antsy. Ed is still on his back, breathing heavily. He opens his eyes and stares up into the lights. Scruff yells “SIX!” The girl with the Houston rocket from earlier yells out “GET UP ED!” Houston tries a sit up but falls back down. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Houston yells out and sits up. He reaches forward for the ring apron and pulls himself to his feet! Scruff stops the count. The crowd cheers~

Smith: And he’s still in it!

Hood: What a drama queen

Smith: Oh so you’re saying he was faking it?

Hood: Not faking it…but milking it? Yea, probably

~Houston turns around, back to the apron. Harrison blasts him with a knife edged chop across the chest!! Houston stumbles into Harrison, holding his chest in pain. Harrison knees Houston in the gut and hooks him around the waist. He hoists Houston up for a Gut Wrench Suplex. Houston, through, flips over onto his feet. Harrison turns around…thrown off by Houston’s flip. Houston drills Harrison in the chin with a Superkick!! Harrison falls against the apron…it keeps him standing. Houston throws another Superkick!! Harrison’s body falls into Houston’s. Houston keeps Harrison upright…he hooks him and drops him with AN EGO TRIP onto the wooden surface! The crowd pops huge for this!! Houston remains on his back while Harrison is face down~

Smith: An Ego Trip? Houston is borrowing Meyhu’s finisher?

Hood: Well he’s not going to be using it tonight…might as well let Ed take it

Smith: That was a little too close for comfort if you’re a Mike Harrison fan

Hood: If there’s one thing I take away from that it’s this – Ed Houston does not do a better Ego Trip than Matt Meyhu

Smith: Well, it is Meyhu’s move

~Harrison nears the wall lining the ring area. Fans are yelling at him to get back in the ring. Other fans…a more veteran fan crew, are yelling at the younger fans to shut up. Harrison isn’t giving it much attention. Scruff isn’t counting so he’s not in any hurry to get back. Houston slides out of the ring, under the bottom rope. Harrison’s back is to the ring. He’s got his hand propped up against the Plexiglas. Houston charges toward Harrison. He leaps through the air with a jumping knee. Harrison moves! Houston’s knee SMACKS into the Plexiglas. Considering there is a concrete wall behind the Plexiglas well…there is no give. Houston grabs his knee and hops around on one leg. He heads back for the ring, limping severely. Harrison dives into view, chopping the back of Houston’s knee! The majority of the crowd boos. Again, Harrison doesn’t care. He grabs Houston’s wounded leg and flips him onto his front. He lifts the leg up into the air and slams it, knee first into the wood surface. He heads back toward the ring, leaving Ed behind. Scruff stands over Ed, monitoring the situation~

Smith: Ed’s knee could be severely injured.

Hood: Yea well that’s what he gets for crippling all those rockets during his stint at NASA

Smith: And where did you collect that bit of fishy information

Hood: I have my sources

~Scruff yells out “ONE!” Harrison is standing next to the ring. Houston is moving, but not very well. His leg appears to be in bad shape. Scruff yells “TWO!” Harrison reaches underneath the ring and pulls out a steel chair. He unfolds the chair and takes a seat, watching the proceedings unfold. Scruff yells “THREE!” Houston tries crawling to the ring…but it’s tough with one good leg. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Finally, Houston has no choice but to get up and try and use the leg. He pushes up onto one knee. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Ed gets to a standing position…all his weight is on one leg while he keeps the pressure off the injured knee. The crowd cheers. Harrison calmly stands up and folds the chair. He grabs it and carries it over toward Ed~

Smith: What’s he going to do?

Hood: Seriously? You act like this is the first wrestling match you’ve ever seen

Smith: I can hope for a better version of pro wrestling, can’t I?

Hood: Better for you…worse for everyone else

~Ed holds out his hands, begging Mike not to hit him with the chair. Harrison does not listen. He’s most likely remembering Ed’s tactics to begin the match. Ed tries to use his body to shield his knee. Mike drills Ed in the right rib cage with the top of the chair. Houston leans that way, instinctively. His left leg is out in the open. Mike smacks the side of it with the chair! He takes the top of the chair and drives it directly into the knee cap!! Houston yells out in pain, crumbling to the wood surface. Mike holds the chair over his head and brings it down across the knee. He does this over and over and over. The fans yell at Mike to stop~

Smith: He’s going to shatter that kid’s leg!

Hood: Can we stop calling that guy a fucking kid? Just because he’s the size of an eighth grader doesn’t mean he’s a fucking child. I saw the guy almost get away with buying a pack of cigarettes the other day

Smith: Oh alright

~Harrison finally stops. Ed reaches for his leg. His hands are trembling as they feel around his devastated knee cap. Harrison’s arms hang at his sides. His right hand keeps the chair gripped. He looks out into the night sky. The Marvel coaster whooshes past. He takes in the aura. A few moments pass. It dawns on him that something is missing. He looks at Scruff and yells, “COUNT!”~

Smith: I think Ed is done…for awhile

Hood: So longer than ten seconds?

Smith: This could be the type of injury that sidelines The Rocket Man for weeks

Hood: Ah well…he only wrestles like once a month

~Scruff is about to count. Harrison glares at the sometimes inept official. Houston thrusts forward. He sits up and hops on his one good leg. It’s amazing. He’s fighting through the pain with a burst of adrenaline! He grabs the chair out of Harrison’s hand. A stunned Harrison turns and looks at Houston. Houston jumps off his one good leg, into the air…he places his good knee against the chair, presses it against Harrison’s face and drops him with a Codebreaker!!! Harrison’s body snaps back, hard onto the wood floor. Houston lands with a sick thud upon executing the move! He drops the chair. He lands a few feet away. Scruff stands, taken back by what’s just happened. Both men are down. The crowd is going wild~

Smith: Out of nowhere!

Hood: That was very Iggy Hardy esque

Smith: Adrenaline is a powerful thing

Hood: So is cocaine

~Scruff snaps back INTO the match and yells “ONE!” Both Harrison and Houston are down. Scruff yells “TWO!” The majority of the fans are chanting for Houston to get to his feet. Scruff yells “THREE!” Neither man has moved up to this point. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Houston reaches down for his knee, wincing. Harrison remains on his back, motionless. Scruff yells “FIVE!”~

Smith: Could we see a double count out?

Hood: Given the fuckery of draws we’ve seen recently, maybe

Smith: It was ONE draw…let it go

Hood: I can’t…I will forever be haunted by its ghostly memory

~Scruff yells “SIX!” The lively crowd screams “PICK UP STICKS!” This chant is imbibed by Houston. He pounds his fists into the wood surface and sits up. He looks down at his leg, almost willing it to function. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Houston sits up! The crowd cheers! Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Ed’s not out of the woods yet. He struggles…his legs are shaking. He’s grimacing. His eyes are filling with water due to the extraordinary amount of pain he’s fighting through. Scruff yells “NINE!”~

Smith: C’mon, Ed!

Hood: Shit…the rocket man is going to win, isn’t he?

Smith: If he can get to his feet in time

~Ed gets to his feet! The crowd goes wild! Scruff hasn’t yelled “TEN!” Houston holds his arms up in the air. He’s in too much pain to smile. He is just proud he made it to his feet. That is until he’s suddenly chopped back to the floor by Harrison, who got to his feet and dove at the back of Ed’s bad leg!! Ed falls to the floor, holding his knee, yelling in pain. The crowd starts to boo Harrison. He’s unmoved. He’s not here to make friends. Harrison slowly returns to his feet and stares down at Ed. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: And the count starts over…only this time it’s just Houston in peril after Harrison refocused his attack on that injured leg

Hood: Smart move by the veteran. A man like Harrison has been through every conceivable war imaginable. He’s going to do what he needs to do to keep Ed down

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Harrison continues to watch Ed. Scruff yells “THREE!” Ed winces and tries to sit up. He falls back to the wood floor. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Houston manages to sit up this time. Harrison congratulates Ed for his efforts with a stiff kick into the chest. He snares Ed by the hair and pulls him to his feet. He effortlessly hoists Ed over his shoulder and carries him toward the ring. Ed tries to squirm away, but can’t~

Smith: I think Harrison knew Ed would answer the ten count. He’s got more work to do

Hood: Bash him in the head. Kill the head and the rest of the body will follow

Smith: A bit harsh but not altogether inaccurate

Hood: It’s 100% accurate unless we’re bringing zombies into the discussion. Are we bringing zombies into the discussion?

Smith: Not in September…too soon

~Harrison tosses Ed into the air. Houston comes down with snake eyes across the apron! He falls to the wood surface, his legs unable to keep his body upright. Harrison flips the cloth draped over the apron up and begins searching underneath the ring for something. This draws the ire of the fans~

Smith: I think the end of Ed’s Craze title reign could be at hand. Mike Harrison is looking strong and he’s ready to put an exclamation on tonight’s performance

Hood: We all knew Ed would crash and burn eventually

Smith: No we didn’t!

Hood: Those of us with brains did…you know, those of us with NASA potential

~Harrison grabs the top of a ladder and yanks it out from under the ring. He isn’t looking to utilize it…it’s just in the way. So he rips it out from under the ring. He continues searching. He locates a table and yanks it out from under the ring. He flips it over and starts to set it up. Houston, seeing the table, tries to crawl away. He’s dragging his dead leg. Harrison sees Houston crawling toward the ring steps but isn’t in any hurry. The wounded animal (Ed) isn’t going anywhere any time soon. Harrison gets the table set up and snares a chair out from under the ring~

Smith: The fans may not like this…but Harrison is merely attempting to keep Ed down.

Hood: Ed would be doing the same shit. How else do you keep a pro wrestler down for ten full seconds without tying them to the floor?

Smith: Indeed

~Houston is seated up against the side of the steps. Harrison heads his way. Houston is holding his knee, continuing to wince. Harrison reaches Houston and goes for a homerun shot with the chair. Houston moves out of the way and Harrison SMACKS the chair into the steps. He drops the chair and grabs his right wrist which is jarring from the metal on metal impact. Houston crawls away, toward the discarded ladder. Houston snares the bottom of the ladder. Harrison grabs Ed by the legs. Houston holds onto the bottom rungs of the ladder for support. Houston uses his good leg to kick Harrison…he nails Harrison in the chin. Mike is wobbled. Houston places his legs around Harrison’s head and while using the ladder for leverage, is able to spin around and toss Mike onto the ladder with a headscissors! Mike lands back first onto the folded ladder! He arches his back in pain, rolling off the ladder. Ed, meanwhile, is curled up, holding his bad knee~

Smith: Great move by Ed…but that knee is in bad shape

Hood: The guy could use his fists ya know…or his head…not like there’s much up there worth damaging anyway

Smith: Rude

~Harrison is on his back. He sits up, grabbing his back. There are red marks from the landing atop the ladder. Houston gets to one knee and stands on his good leg. He snares the ladder by the top and yanks it away from Harrison. Mike turns his head and watches Ed slide the ladder into the ring…Ed is hopping around on his one good leg. Harrison looks and spots the chair. He gets to his feet and heads for the steel weapon. He picks up the chair and heads for Ed. Ed hops onto the apron gingerly, placing all the weight on his good leg. He’s standing on the apron. He feels Mike coming up behind him and throws a mule kick. It nails Mike in the face! Harrison staggers back, into the table. He winds up on top of the table. The fans cheer. Ed looks over his shoulder~

Smith: Harrison is in perfect position

Hood: Or terrible position…really depends on who you’re pulling for

~Houston places his leg onto the middle rope. It appears he’s looking to perform a moonsault. He has his bad leg on the middle rope. He tries to step up but comes back down onto the apron. He reaches for his knee. It’s not near stable enough. He turns and sees Harrison is still on the table. So he bends his knees for a moonsault off the apron. His bad knee buckles again. He reaches for it. He smacks it a few times, trying to get it to stabilize…to feel normal. Harrison suddenly slides off the table. He runs forward and delivers a forearm into the back of Ed’s bad knee. The crowd groans. Ed crumbles to the apron and rolls into the ring under the bottom rope, near the ladder. Harrison, on the outside, composes himself. He looks at the table and then into the ring…an idea seems to spring to mind~

Smith: What is he going to do?

Hood: Become Craze Champion

Smith: More specifically

Hood: What do I look like…a damn psychic to you?

~Harrison climbs into the ring. He snares Ed by the hair and yanks him to his feet. He knees Ed in the gut and hoists him up for a powerbomb. He turns, facing the ropes, looking to toss Ed over the top rope into the table. Ed, sensing what’s about to happen, reaches down and gouges Mike in the eyes! Harrison staggers back, tripping over the ladder! He drops Ed to the mat. Ed lands on his ass which would normally hurt…but given his knee, it’s much appreciated. Houston crawls around, gingerly and grabs the ladder. He starts to set it up in the center of the ring~

Smith: What is Ed doing?!

Hood: He’s lost his mind

Smith: I don’t think so

Hood: Good point…losing your mind would indicate you had a mind to lose

~Houston has the ladder set up. He starts to climb on the end furthest from the ropes near the table. Harrison gets up, a bit staggered. Houston is halfway up the ladder and looks to jump off. His knee, however, just isn’t stable enough. Figuring this out gives Harrison enough time to turn around and see Ed halfway up the ladder. Harrison reaches for Ed’s legs. Houston ascends the ladder even further, to place himself out of Mike’s reach. Harrison heads toward the opposite side of the ladder, the side nearest the side of the ring facing the table. He starts to climb. Houston is at the top before realizing Mike is climbing. He looks down. It’s a long way to the mat. He tries to climb but finds descending more painful than ascending. So, he’s trapped~

Smith: Ed’s in trouble

Hood: What an idiot…I’ve got one leg so let me climb this ladder

Smith: He’s a high risk wrestler, Hood. You remember The Greatest Show on Earth…how he delivered that Spanish Fly to put Josie Barnes down

Hood: You know I don’t speak Spanish

~Harrison reaches the top of the ladder. Ed throws a punch. Mike blocks it. Mike throws an elbow into Ed’s ear. Houston wobbles. Mike steps up onto the second to last rung. The ladder wobbles. Mike grabs Ed’s head and hooks it under his arm. He’s looking for a suplex off the top of the ladder! The crowd rises with a mixture of fear and anticipation. He tries to lift Ed up, but Ed fights back with a low blow!!! Harrison’s grip is erased. His mouth opens wide. He leans forward. Houston grabs Harrison by the hair and delivers a vicious head butt!! Harrison teeters back…he falls off the ladder all the way outside the ring and through the table!!! The crowd goes wild! “HOLY SHIT!” fills the arena area! Houston leans over the top of the ladder, catching his breath. Scruff is standing on the outside looking down at the carnage. Harrison is on his back amidst a pile of wooden rubble. He isn’t moving. Scruff yells out “ONE!”~

Smith: Oh my gosh! That’s it! It’s over!

Hood: Old people break their hips when they fall in the kitchen…Harrison’s body must be shattered

Smith: He’s not THAT old

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Harrison hasn’t moved. Ed takes his bad leg and moves it over the top of the ladder. He brings his good leg over. He’s now seated at the very top of the ladder. Scruff yells “THREE!” Ed leans forward, breathing heavily, running his hands through his sweat soaked hair. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Harrison is still motionless. Scruff yells “FIVE!”~

Smith: Still no movement from Mike Harrison

Hood: Good night, sweet heart.

Smith: Houston sitting atop the ladder is a great visual. Each of his title defenses have come via a gigantic ladder spot. When ladders and Ed Houston come together…it spells trouble for his opponents

~Scruff yells “SIX!” Harrison STILL hasn’t moved. Ed’s head is still bent down, looking at the mat. He’s exhausted, in pain. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” A “HOUSTON!” chant begins. A sort of celebration is about to take place. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” We zoom in and see Harrison beginning to move. The ‘HOUSTON’ chants die down. Ed looks around, feeling the vibe in the arena shift. He looks over at Harrison. Mike rolls onto his stomach and lays there. Scruff yells “NINE!” Houston leans forward, watching with anxiety. Mike puts his palms onto the wood surface. Scruff is ready to yell ten. He’s about to throw both hands in the air. Mike does a quick push up and reaches his feet! He stumbles forward…he staggers…Scruff doesn’t seem ready to call him upright, just yet. He stumbles near the steps and uses them for support, remaining on his feet. Scruff motions that Mike is still in the match! The Harrison fans in attendance cheer. Most of the fans are disappointed~

~Harrison stumbles away from the steps. His feet kick the steel chair. It slides near the broken table. Harrison makes his way near the shattered table. It’s clear he’s far from stable. Houston stands up on the ladder. He’s on the second highest rung. He looks around. The fans are on their feet. Some are yelling “NO!” But the diehard, bloodlust fans in the crowd are clamoring for him to do whatever psychotic move he has planned. Houston looks down at Mike, who is prone. Mike is leaning forward, hands on his knees. Houston bends his bad knee…it’s still weak and unstable. He takes the weight off it and places all his weight on the functioning knee. He takes in a deep breath and hops off the ladder with one leg! He plummets down toward Mike. Mike reaches down, he grabs the steel chair. He swings it and drills Ed right in the bad knee!!! Houston lands hard on the wood surface!! The crowd BOOOS! Ed holds onto his knee! He’s writhing in pain. Mike drops the chair and leans against the apron. He yells at Scruff to count. Scruff yells out “ONE!”~

Smith: No! Right in the knee!

Hood: Looks like ole Ed finally crashed and burned

Smith: He’s got time! Get up, Ed! Get up!!

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Ed is curled up, holding his knee. Mike, leaning against the apron, looks on with the chair in his hands. He’s ready to pounce should Ed answer the count. Scruff yells “THREE!” The crowd stomps their feet. They cheer Ed on. Scruff yells “FOUR!” The girl in the front row screams “GET UP, ED! THERE’S A BLOW JOB IN IT FOR YOU!” Scruff yells “FIVE!” The men around the girl quickly approach and ask for her phone number. Scruff yells “SIX!” Harrison seems to be growing in confidence. Houston finally looks over at Harrison with belligerence in his eyes. He’s not ready to lose his belt. Scruff yells “SEVEN!”~

Smith: C’mon, kid! Get up! You can do it!

Hood: So you want him to be maimed for life? A real pal you are

~Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Ed puts his palms on the wood surface. He struggles to do a push up. His body is fatigued. The pain in his knee has taken all his energy. Scruff yells “NINE!” Ed’s on his good knee. He needs to use his bad knee to get to his feet. Mike has the chair raised, ready to attack Houston should he reach his feet. Ed tries to put pressure on his leg…it gives!! He falls back to the floor. Scruff shakes his head and yells “TEN!!!” he calls for the bell! Mike drops the chair and leans against the apron in relief~

Smith: Dang it! No!

Hood: It’s about fucking time

Smith: This is simply heart breaking

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this contest….AND NEW OCW CRAZE CHAMPION….MIKE HARRISON!!!!!

Smith: A tremendous win for Harrison. I can’t take that away from him…but I’ll be honest…I was rooting for Ed

Hood: No shit

~Harrison rolls into the ring. Scruff receives the Craze Title from Belvedere. He hustles into the ring and hands it to Mike. Harrison raises it high. A portion of the crowd applauds his victory. Most of the fans, though, are concerned with Ed. The Knife Man is taking a look at Ed’s leg. Other OCW paramedics are down there, helping out. Mike heads toward the ropes, looking down at the scene~

Smith: What a fight by Ed Houston. It took a potentially crippled knee to keep him down

Hood: Turnabout is fair play, Smith. He basically crippled Josie to win the damn thing. Now he gets crippled and loses it

~Harrison exits through the ropes. We see The Knife Man explain to Ed that they need to get him to the back. A stretcher comes into view. They lower it. Harrison steps up and tosses the stretcher aside. The crowd gasps. The Knife Man stands up, pleading with Harrison. Mike tosses the title over his shoulder. He looks down at Houston. Ed’s face is contorted with pain and defeat~

Smith: What’s he going to do?

Hood: An Ed a huge favor…he’s going to end his career

~Harrison says something along the lines of “Hell of an effort, Kid.” He extends his hand. Houston pauses for a moment. He then takes Mike’s hand and is yanked to his feet…on his one good leg. The crowd goes wild! Houston places his arm around Mike. Together, Harrison and Houston exit the ring arena. The Knife Man and other paramedics follow close behind. A “HOUSTON!” chant fills the arena as the two men exit and disappear behind the curtain~

Smith: Now that’s what I like to see! Two men giving it their all and showing the proper respect when the war has come to its conclusion

Hood: Ugh, so gay. So, so, so gay

Smith: If by gay you mean happy…then, yes, a very happy ending! Well folks...while we get things situated out here...let's take a look at a promo for our next PPV event!

Smith: Some, uh, spooky stuff

Hood: This might be the greatest event in the history of pro wrestling

Smith: I won’t deny that claim! New Orleans…two nights before Halloween. That will be some kind scary, that’s for sure!

Hood: We won’t…ya know…be INSIDE that haunted house, will we?

Smith: Knowing this company, probably

Hood: Starting to re-think my two weeks notice

Smith: While Hood contemplates his life…let’s take a look at the updated Margarita Mix brackets!

Smith: It’s been quite the journey…and that journey comes to an end…and that is NEXT!

~It’s getting late in the day…the sun is beginning to wane. But the crowd is as live as ever! The lighting in the arena area suddenly changes. We get that pink and light blue vibe going on. It’s MIX time! The crowd chants ‘MIX!’ repeatedly. Belvedere is in the ring with the mic in his hand. He clears his throat…the crowd goes wild~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the Margarita Mix Final!! This match is a tag team match scheduled for one fall and it will be held under Tornado Tag Rules. The rules of a tornado tag match state that all four wrestlers can be in the ring at the same tame. Any wrestler at any time is susceptible to being pinned. All pinfalls and submissions must take place inside the ring. Introducing first…

~“Figure 8” by Trust Company begins to play! The crowd pops! The curtain is thrust aside as Syren emerges with Curt Canon sitting atop his shoulder! A dual “SYREN” and “CANON” chant sounds out. Curt is waving to the crowd while Syren and his shades carry Canon with ease. He casually opens the gate and steps up into the ring area. He walks around the ring with Canon almost doing a ‘Queen Elizabeth’ type wave to the fans~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 442lbs…the team of former OCW Champions…the team of OCW Hall of Famers…the team of Curt Canon and Scott Syren!!!

~Canon hops off of Syren’s shoulder and flips into the ring. Syren casually steps onto the apron and climbs into the ring. He finds his team’s corner and leans back, looking chill as fuck. Canon finds a corner, climbs and motions out toward the fans~

Smith: Interesting entrance

Hood: Syren’s been carrying Canon for years…why hide it now?

Smith: That’s rude…Curt has carved his own career and path within OCW. Some might argue the past few years have been his best…and those have been achieved WITHOUT Syren

Hood: Yea, more fake news

Belvedere: And, their opponents…

~"I Am Legend" echoes through the arena, followed by the build-up of the music. The claps and heavy beat are joined by lasers and flashing lights as the music blasts out. Vincent Langston emerges with a stoic look on his face. He pushes past the gate and walks towards the ring. He jumps over the ropes, lands in the ring, and lets out a loud yell to the crowd, before turning back to his corner. He stares down Syren. Curt is still perched on the second rope, looking over his shoulder at Langston~

Hood: You say that like it’s some achievement. Guy is only in his fifth match

Smith: The statement holds true

Hood: I guess…but going from Zolton to Syren is like trying to hit on Zooey Deschanel after enjoying a TV dinner with Alice Knight

Smith: Hmmm

~Halestorm's, "Black Vultures" assaults the P/A system. Through the curtains steps a fit, pale skinned, raven haired and heavily tattooed woman, her fist raised up in the air. Her dark brown eyes wander over the crowd as she stands, taking it all in for a moment. On her face we find dark crimson painted on her full lips and red highlighted black eye shadow over her eyes. Her modest chest is contained by a fringed red and blue leather vest, her ass covered by black and silver tights. She sports standard black pads on her elbows and knees, with knee high laced wrestling boots to match. On her wrists are red, white, and blue bands. Upon her hips rests a thick black leather belt with a large and square silver buckle that reads in an ornate font, "REBEL."

Belvedere: ON HER WAY TO THE RING....

~She makes her way to the ring with a confident stride. It doesn't take her long to reach ringside. She climbs the steps, wipes her feet on the apron, and slips through the ropes. Rebel Rhodes then backs into her team’s corner, standing next to Langston.....~

Belvedere: FROM ROME, GEORGIA, STANDING AT FIVE FEET AND ELEVEN INCHES TALL AND WEIGHING IN AT ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY TWO POUNDS...

RRRRRREEEEBBBBBEEEEEELLLLL RRRRRRHHHHHHOOOOODDDDDDEEEESSSSS!!!!

~Melinda raises her arm with a three finger salute to the fans~

Smith: And the Rebel is here! She’s been nothing short of amazing since debuting in OCW

Hood: Is this the biggest match of HER career, also?

Smith: Well her OCW career, I think so

Hood: Is this the biggest match of SYREN’s career?

Smith: That’s a bit more difficult to say. I’d lean toward…probably not

Hood: Well at least you’ve retained SOME sanity

~A light shines outside the ring. It shows the Margarita Mix Trophy! The vibrant trophy is set next to the time keeper and Belvedere’s chair. Belvedere exits the ring. Scruff remains inside, ready to do his job. The bell suddenly sounds as the crowd goes wild – ready to see who will become the 2018 Margarita Mix champions~

Smith: This is a tossup, in my mind

Hood: Well your mind is daft

Smith: Syren and Canon are the more accomplished duo in OCW…by far. However Rhodes and Langston just have the feel of the future within this company

Hood: Potential is a groovy thing…until it’s demolished. Syren has made a career off of demolishing people’s potential. Remember Y2James? How about Slippy McJew?

Smith: Okay, stop it right there!

~Rhodes and Langston start to confer. Canon and Syren look at them like they are crazy. Syren nods in their direction. Canon sprints forward and leaps through the air crushing Rhodes into the corner with a big splash!! Langston, out of instinct, moves out of the way! Canon throws lefts and rights into the head of Rebel. Vincent snaps into combat mode and grabs Canon by the back of the neck. He’s about to lift Canon up with a giant, roided up forearm drills Langston in the upper portion of the back, between the shoulder blades. Langston releases Canon and stumbles near the ropes. He turns around and receives a very robotic clothesline from the roided arm of Syren! Langston flips over the top rope, hits the apron and lands roughly on the outside. Canon returns to pounding on Melinda with overreaching right hands~

Smith: And we’re off to a fast start…Rhodes and Langston have shown that they like to strategize and work together…something Canon looked to take advantage of

Hood: Yep…one team is very thorough and methodical…the other is, well, the opposite

Smith: A great contrast in styles!

~Syren steps through the ropes, onto the apron. Langston landed on his feet. He looks up. Syren jumps off with a stiff looking double axe handle! He drills Langston right between the eyes!! Vincent staggers back. Syren bull rushes Langston and knocks him down with a shoulder tackle! Langston’s back smacks against the wood surface with great impact! Meanwhile, inside the ring, Canon has Rhodes subdued. He’s looking sharp and focused! He whips Rhodes out of the corner…she sprints across the ring. Canon is right behind her. She hits the corner hard and is met with another splash from Canon~

Smith: Canon and Syren are on fire!

Hood: Not literally!

Smith: Rhodes and Langston are falling behind in this one…they’d better do something to catch up. You do not want to get too far behind a team comprised of hall of famers

Hood: They could be taking the unconventional route, Smith

~Canon hops up and places his legs into Melinda’s abdomen. He falls back and tosses her with a Monkey Flip! Rhodes, though, manages to land on her feet with her back to Canon. Canon rolls through, over the back of his head and stands. He looks overly happy with his performance. Melinda turns around, staring at Canon’s back. She doesn’t appear to be all that pleased. Slowly, Canon turns around, expecting a downed Rhodes. He finds something much different. Rhodes unleashes a furious assault of knife edged chops into the exposed chest of Canon!! He stumbles into the corner they were previously in. Rhodes chops and chops and chops…each one seems to ring out louder than the previous chop~

Smith: She’s going to cut his chest open!

Hood: Vile woman

Smith: Well, to be fair, she’s simply fighting back

Hood: Vengeful woman

~Rhodes delivers a penultimate chop. Canon’s chest is red and irritated with speckles of blood forming. She raises her hand high. Canon is draped in the corner, head down. The crowd quiets down. Rhodes raises Canon’s head, rears back and SMACKS Canon in the chest with the final chop! We THINK we see a mist of blood from the impact! Canon staggers forward, holding his chest in pain. He falls to one knee. Syren, on the outside, turns to see what’s going on. He removes his sunglasses, slowly and drops them to the floor~

Smith: Rhodes just opened up a can of…

Hood: DON’T SAY TUNA

Smith: Alright, fine…a can of SALSA on Canon’s chest

Hood: Somehow that’s worse

~Syren steps up onto the apron. Rhodes sprints toward Canon from behind and drills him with a flying knee to the back of the head! Canon’s body jerks forward before falling to the side. Rhodes looks for a pin. In her peripheral she sees Syren stepping into the ring. She foregoes the pin to address the Syren situation. Syren steps into the ring and wiggles his giant pecs~

Smith: Rhodes is about to test the strength of OCW’s legend

Hood: Welcome to OCW, Rhodes

Smith: Indeed

~Syren charges toward Rhodes. Rhodes sidesteps Syren and drops to the mat, trying to roll him up. Syren kicks his legs out and attempts to drop his ass on top of Rhodes. She rolls out of the way! Syren lands ass first onto the mat. He sits there for a moment with a funny look on his face. It seems to say “Well that didn’t feel too good.” Rhodes pops to her feet and hits the ropes. She bounces off, charges from behind Syren, leaps into the air and hits him with a standing dropsault!! Syren grabs the back of his head in pain. Rhodes is back on her feet, having executed the athletic maneuver. Out of nowhere comes Canon with a lunging lariat!! He drills Rhodes, turning her inside out!! She lands on the mat with impact. Canon crawls over to check on Syren~

Smith: Tremendous athleticism by The Rebel…unfortunately she was dealing with a two on one situation

Hood: Finally Canon picking up the slack

Smith: Why do you constantly sell Curt so short?

Hood: Seriously? You’re just gonna toss one up to me like that?

~Curt rubs the back of his head which remains sore. Syren seems to be fine. He’s more annoyed than anything. Together they get up and find Melinda, who is on her side, recovering. They stand over her. She looks up. It’s not a good position to be in. From behind we see Langston slide into the ring! The crowd pops. Syren and Curt turn around. Langston throws a punch at Curt and at Syren. They both connect! He takes a few steps back and charges forward with a double clothesline! He drops the two Hall of Famers! Syren rolls out of the ring while Curt remains inside the ring. Rhodes returns to her feet…she keeps her sights set on Syren~

Smith: I think Melinda is determined to make an impression on Syren

Hood: That’s not smart. It’s easier to beat up on the little guy

Smith: Not everybody goes the easy route, Hood. Some like to challenge the biggest dog in the yard

Hood: Yes and those people are usually mourned for their premature deaths

~Langston stomps Canon in his red, irritated, slightly bloodied chest. Rhodes backs up. She runs forward and dives through the ropes with a Suicide Dive! She spears head first into Scott Syren! Syren catches her!! His giant muscles seem to be in fine form. He runs forward with Rhodes in his arms. She tries to fight free, clawing and biting and punching at Syren’s head. Syren RAMS Rhodes back first into the edge of the apron!! The fans at ringside groan. Rhodes falls to her knees, clutching at the lower portion of her back. Syren takes a few steps back…the crowd rises~

Smith: Is he going for the dreaded…kick to the head?

Hood: I bet he kicks her head clean off her shoulders

Smith: No way

Hood: It’s Syren…he once kicked a seventy yard field goal with a medicine ball

~Syren lunges forward with the KICK TO THE HEAD! Rhodes ducks and rolls. Syren’s leg finds itself under the ring. He yanks it back out. It’s tangled in some cords and wires. Rhodes, standing behind Syren, leaps up and drills him in the side of the back of the head with an Enziguri!! Syren stumbles into the ring apron with his foot still tangled. Rhodes pops back to her feet…she leaps up, grabs Syren by the head and drops him to the wood floor with SlingBlade!! Syren hits hard! The crowd pops for Rhodes. She pops to her feet full of fire~

Smith: Look at her go! She’s taking it right to Syren!

Hood: What the fuck is this shit?

Smith: It’s pro wrestling!

Hood: Who put those cables there? I demand an investigation!

~Rhodes grabs the cables and removes them from Syren’s feet~

Smith: Rhodes doing Syren a solid

Hood: At least the woman has a modicum of class…HEY!

~She takes the cables and wraps them around Syren’s neck! She clamps down, choking the air right out of Syren’s throat. Meanwhile, inside the ring, Langston has Canon in a corner. His giant foot is wedged into Canon’s throat. Both Hall of Famers are fighting for oxygen. Langston removes his foot and whips Canon across the ring. Canon charges toward the corner. Langston sprints in behind Canon. Canon stops right before hitting the buckles and leaps over the charging Langston. Langston catches Canon over his shoulder. He spins around to drop Canon with a powerslam…but Canon utilizes Langston’s spinning momentum and winds up dropping him with an Inverted Tornado DDT!!! The crowd goes wild for this move!! Langston flops around, holding his neck in pain. Canon remains on the mat, rubbing his burning chest~

Smith: What a move by Curt! I don’t think Langston ever saw it coming

Hood: Considering he didn’t stop it…I’d say you’re spot on

Smith: That’s the thing about Curt…sure, he may be small. And, yea, he may have a pet monkey. But the minute you let your guard down…he’ll jump up and make you pay for it

Hood: Like a really shitty commercial you think has been removed from the airwaves…then football season rolls around and THERE IT IS AGAIN

~Canon kips up. He runs into the ropes, bounces off, charges at Langston who is still on his back and delivers a standing Shooting Star Press! He connects! He goes for the pin! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: A little early for a pinfall, perhaps. But it doesn’t hurt to try

Hood: A little early?! He just dropped the dude on his NECK

Smith: I’m just saying!

Hood: Perhaps you should quit saying…or talking, really

~Canon returns to his feet. He spots Rhodes choking Syren. Syren isn’t moving. His face is red…redder than usual, anyway. Canon charges toward the ropes and leaps up, balancing along the top rope. He springboards off, jumping high into the air. He comes crashing down with a double foot stomp! Rhodes looks up and can’t move out of the way in time, so she leans forward, exposing her back and shoulders to the brunt of the pain. Canon lands stomping both legs into Melinda’s back!!! She instantly drops the cables and lurches forward. Canon tucks and rolls, finding his feet. He turns back around and snares Melinda by her feet, dragging her front first away from the ring and Syren~

Smith: A double foot stomp into the back of Rebel! For a veteran such as Rhodes…that’s got to agitate some battle scars

Hood: Oh and like Syren is a rookie?

Smith: That’s not what I was insinuating

Hood: It’s all about Rebel, isn’t it? I see who you’re pulling for this evening

Smith: I’m pulling for a good match!

~Curt pulls Rhodes up into the wheel barrow position. He tosses her up, catches her waist from behind and tosses her in one fluid motion over his head with a dead lift Release German Suplex!! Rhodes lands HARD on her head atop the wooden surface! She’s all folded up. Curt considers pinning her. He turns to look toward the ring. Langston is returning to his feet. He spots Syren sitting up, rubbing his throat saying something that sounds like “fucking whore”. Curt decides to leave Rhodes alone and sprints toward the ring. He sprints by Syren, catching the big man’s attention. Curt slides into the ring and pops to his feet in front of Langston. Vincent looks down at Curt, a bit surprised. Curt puts up his fists and challenges Langston to a fight~

Smith: This is not a fight Curt can win, I’m afraid

Hood: Oh, sure, let’s bury Curt. If Rhodes were in his place you’d be talking her up

Smith: She is an accomplished striker, Hood

Hood: SEE!

~Canon throws a punch. Langston blocks it with ease. Curt tries a punch with his other hand. Langston blocks this one easier than the previous punch. He grabs Curt by the head and lifts him off the canvas. Canon is lifted high in the air with his little legs wiggling. Syren slides into the ring. Langston is blocked from noticing Syren by Canon’s body. Syren dives forward, spearing Langston to the mat! Curt lands on top of Langston’s chest! He reaches back and grabs one of Vincent’s legs for a pin! Syren pops to his feet, watching the pin attempt. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Shoulder Up!!!

Smith: He kicked out!

Hood: Technically he got a shoulder up

Smith: You know what I mean!

Hood: I don’t know how…considering the way you butcher the English language. Webster would be PISSED

~Syren immediately stomps on Langston’s head. Canon gets off Vincent’s chest and pops to his feet. He heads for a corner and waves Syren over. Syren turns his back to the corner. Canon stands atop Syren’s shoulders. Canon turns around with his back facing Langston and jumps off Syren’s shoulders with a Phoenix Splash! It connects!! He goes for the pin, hooking one of Langston’s giant legs. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

NO! Kick Out!

Smith: Another kick out by Langston! This man has some serious heart and determination

Hood: The bigger the heart the smaller the brain

Smith: I totally disagree

Hood: The extra size of that heart has to come from somewhere, Smith

~Syren goes right after Langston. He shoves Curt aside and snares Langston by the head, pulling him off the canvas. Syren shoves Langston back and kicks him in the abdomen. Langston staggers into a corner. Syren marches forward and delivers a knee right into the solar plexus. Langston doubles over, gasping for air. Syren straightens him up and dives in with a vicious head butt! The fans are chanting and cheering. A bunch of “CLASSIC SYREN” references can be heard. Curt stands in the back, observing~

Smith: A switch has been flipped!

Hood: Yep, Syren said ‘enough of this shit’

Smith: The first true legend of OCW is taking matters into his own hands

Hood: It won’t be long now, Smith. This match is OVER

~Canon continues to observe…he’s like a fan at this point. Syren drills Langston in the forehead with a bionic elbow. Curt mimics the bionic elbow from behind. Langston is just nearly out on his feet. A figure emerges from behind Canon. IT’S THE REBEL. Canon senses something afoot. He turns and gets BLASTED by a right hand from Rhodes! She follows that up by jumping into the air, wrapping both legs around Canon’s head and flipping him over with a Frankensteiner!! She snares both legs for the pin! Scruff, who had been paying attention…surprisingly, slides in with the count~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Curt kicked out!

Hood: Holy shit! Where did she come from!?

Smith: Outside the ring, of course. Ample time for a recovery, Hood

Hood: Fucking Rhodes

~Syren turns around, seeing Canon down. He grabs Langston and yanks him out of the corner, whipping him toward Rhodes, who is back on her feet. She sees Langston heading her way and dives under his legs. She pops up and leaps into the air with a flying knee, smacking Syren in the jaw!! Syren staggers forward. Langston turns around, facing Syren. He’s got a sudden burst of adrenaline. He lifts the gigantic man up and drills him into the mat with a Spinebuster!!! The ring shakes from the impact. Langston rolls onto his back, gasping for air. The pain from Syren’s assault comes rushing back. Rhodes hops over Syren’s body to check on her teammate~

Smith: Syren really did a number on Vincent. He’s feeling it

Hood: How dare they treat Syren in such a rude manner! He’s the TRUE legend

Smith: They are trying to win a match, Hood. At one point Johnny Hunter was the true legend while Syren was the young upstart looking to make a name for himself. What would have happened if Hunter had simply squashed Syren?

Hood: Why do you bring up impossible scenarios?

Smith: I’m trying to prove a point!

~Canon, on the apron, gets to his feet. He starts to climb to the top. Rhodes continues to check on Langston. Syren is on his back. Canon reaches the top and looks down at Rhodes. It’s a similar situation. He leaps off for a double foot stomp. Rhodes pops to her feet! She smacks Canon with a forearm! She pulls him in before he can fall and puts his head into the mat with an Evenflow DDT!! The crowd pops! She’s got momentum. She manages to get Canon onto his back between Langston and Syren. She goes for the pin. Scruff drops to his knees away from the carnage to make the count~

1!

2!

NO!

Smith: Syren’s awake!

Hood: He’s gonna rip that bitch’s extensions right out of her stupid head

Smith: I believe that hair is all natural, Hood

~Syren, on his knees, has a handful of Melinda’s hair. He yanks her off of Canon, preventing the three count. Syren gets to his feet. Rhodes reaches up, trying to fight him off. She throws a toe kick into his shin. Syren absorbs it with minimal discomfort. He scoops her up with ease and tosses her over his shoulder. She jabs him in the eye socket. This does some damage. Syren falters. Rhodes lands on her feet behind him. She charges at the ropes and bounces off, springing toward Syren. Syren throws his arm back and CRUSHES Rhodes in the face with an elbow!! Rhodes stumbles back, falling through the ropes, onto the apron. She fights to her feet. Syren congratulates her fight with a KICK TO THE HEAD!! Rhodes goes flying off the apron to the wood floor. SHE’S OUT~

Smith: He’s got to get her in the ring for a pin or he’s got to pin Langston

Hood: WHAT? There’s MORE? Can’t we just call this?

~Syren turns around only to be met with a Spinning Heel Kick from Langston!!! Syren is staggered. Langston takes a second to collect himself. He knees Syren in the gut and hooks him for a Double Arm DDT! He drops Syren with the Double Arm DDT and tries to roll through for the pin…the finisher he calls Scars of War. Syren, though, is too muscular and rigid to roll! Langston is forced to give it up and return to his feet. Syren rolls onto his back. Langston reaches down, grabbing Syren around his already irritated throat. Langston gets blasted in the side of the head by a sitout dropkick from Canon!!! Langston lets Syren go and stumbles into the ropes. Canon checks on Syren who rolls out of the way~

Smith: Langston might have had the win…but Syren, well, he’s a tough man to roll around with

Hood: His muscles are huge

Smith: Yes, yes they are

~Canon charges at Langston with a V-Trigger knee! He smacks Langston right in the head! Langston stumbles forward, coming to rest in the center of the ring. Canon charges for the ropes behind Langston…he bounces off…he sprints past Langston hitting the other side of the ropes…he bounces off and charges right at Langston, who is doubled over. He snares Langston’s head and leaps into the air for The Chronicles End!! Langston, however, doesn’t go over…he’s too heavy. Instead he tosses Canon into the air. Canon flips completely over Langston landing on his feet behind The Legend. He stumbles into a corner. He scales the buckles as quickly as he can. Langston turns around to find Curt. When he turns around he finds Canon in the air performing a Moonsault!! Canon lands on Langston and takes him down for the pin…Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3…

NO!

Smith: Another kick out by Langston! This man is truly tough

Hood: Well when you survive bullets and third world lodging…this is probably a walk in the park

Smith: Indeed

~Canon pops back to his feet, full of fire. Syren is back on his feet, resting against the ropes. Canon looks at his partner who nods in return. They have an idea. Canon peels Langston off the mat and whips him at Syren. Syren catches Langston and goes for an overhead belly to belly over the top rope. Langston, though, manages to fight it enough to land on his feet atop the apron. He throws a forearm uppercut, spinning Syren around. He locks in a Full Nelson. All the muscles in his body tighten. He lets out a yell and lifts Syren up, out of the ring and to the outside with a Dragon Suplex! He doesn’t release so both men fall all the way to the wood surface with a LOUD thud!! The surprisingly sturdy floor holds up! The crowd goes wild! “HOLY SHIT!” chants fill the theme park venue. Both Langston and Syren are out. Canon rushes to the ropes, looking out at what’s taken place. His eyes widen when he sees the two behemoths unconscious~

Smith: Oh my gosh!! That’s it…they are both finished

Hood: Fucking meat head…he tosses Syren on his head and in the process lands on his own fucking head. Idiot

Smith: It’s the heat of battle, Hood. He’s doing what he can to survive and potentially thrive

Hood: Shut up, your breath smells like legendary cock

Smith: *gasps*

~From behind Canon we see the weathered visage of The Rebel enter. The crowd pops to their feet. Canon looks around…he knows their reaction isn’t due to anything he’s done. And, well, the other two men are down in front of him…so that must mean…SHOT IN THE DARK! He turns around and Rhodes grabs him for Shot in the Dark! Canon, though, fights through it!! She shoves Rhodes off. The aggressive Rebel goes back after him…but Canon drills Rhodes with a Superkick!!! Rhodes goes stiff and hits the mat! Canon slides in with the pin~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!!

Smith: Kick out by Rhodes! My goodness! I thought she had it…Shot in the Dark was right there

Hood: Curt’s obviously been made well aware of that move

Smith: Indeed…the sign of a true veteran

~Curt pops back to his feet. Rhodes is slow to get to hers. Curt runs into the ropes. He’s looking for Chronicles End. He reaches for Melinda’s head, but she ducks it! Canon hits the ropes again. Melinda turns around and both competitors greet one another with a clothesline! The double clothesline takes them both down, in the center of the ring!! Melinda immediately starts to back slide into position for something. Scruff walks around, monitoring the situation. The fans in attendance are going wild~

Smith: I have no idea who’s going to win at this point. I’m not even sure we’re close to a decision

Hood: I have to admit…I really lost interest once Scott was taken out

Smith: You are a terrible broadcaster

Hood: Hey, I’m just being honest. If that muscle headed mad man gets back in there then I’ll be as eager as a groupie front row at a rock concert

~Melinda reaches Canon’s legs and starts to wrap her’s within his. The crowd starts to realize what’s going on. While on her back, she gets their legs locked. She’s able to turn Canon over, away from the ropes in the center of the ring with a Sharpshooter!!! It’s a pretty weak looking sharpshooter, at first. She takes a breath, works up the strength and raises up making it a very dangerous and painful ELEVATED Sharpshooter!! Canon yells out in pain, reaching around for ropes that are too far away to grasp. Scruff slides in asking him if he wants to give it up~

Smith: Rebel Death Lock!! Curt could give this up…Rhodes and Langston are on the precipice of victory!

Hood: Fucking hell! I didn’t think this would ACTUALLY happen

Smith: As the great Ron Paul once GIF’d….IT’S HAPPENING

~As if intuition strikes. Syren sits up on the outside. He looks pissed off. Langston is next to him. Syren throws a hammer fist into Langston’s chest. Vincent rolls over in pain. Syren gets to his feet, cursing. He looks in the ring and sees Canon’s back about to break. He hurries and slides in. Rebel spots Syren coming and cranks back trying to get a tap out before he reaches her. Canon’s hand is up…he’s about to bring it down. But Syren grabs Melinda by the hair and pulls her off of Curt! The hold is broken and Curt rolls toward the apron, holding his back. Melinda throws punches and kicks at Syren…but the OCW legend is unfazed. He just looks at her…an amalgamation of curiosity and anger. He leans forward and head butts The Rebel. She stumbles toward the ropes, falling through them. Syren stalks her, stepping through the ropes. He picks her up and hoists her into the air in an Atomic Drop position~

Smith: This doesn’t look good for Melinda

Hood: Let’s see how far Syren can throw her

~Syren tosses Melinda…but she manages to grab onto his head. She yanks him off the apron on her way down and hits SHOT IN THE DARK!!!! Syren’s body SMASHES into the wood. He’s out, face first. Rhodes crawls toward the ring, away from the OCW legend. Curt is back in the ring, staggering around. Melinda gets onto the apron. Curt sees her and rushes forward. Rhodes, on her feet, crushes Curt with a stiff left jab. Curt staggers back. Rhodes hops up onto the top rope…Curt dives forward, into the ropes. Rhodes wobbles and loses her balance. She starts to fall into the ring. Curt leaps up and greets her with a Codebreaker!! Rhodes is out, face down on the mat with her legs hung up in the ropes. Canon flips her over…her legs fall out of the ropes. He goes for the pin~

1!

2!

3!!

NO!

Smith: She got foot on the bottom rope! Unbelievable!

Hood: Somebody drug test THAT bitch

Smith: Not unless Syren is tested first…and Iggy

~Curt can’t believe she got her foot on the rope. He returns to his feet and picks Rhodes up. She’s almost out on her feet. He has her set up for Chronicle’s End. He runs toward the ropes behind Rhodes. Langston suddenly slides in. He’s facing Rhodes. He sees Canon hitting the ropes. He charges forward. Canon bounces off the ropes and runs past Rhodes. Langston goes for a lariat. Curt ducks! Langston barrels into Rhodes!! She goes flying, through the ropes and to the floor. Langston looks over the top rope at Rhodes with concern. Canon runs up behind Langston and drops him with a Zig Zag!~

Smith: Langston just ran into his own partner!

Hood: What an idiot!

Smith: He’s trying to win the match, Hood. It was a mistake

~Langston is slow to his feet. Curt is waiting on him. Curt kicks him in the gut. He hits the ropes and comes off for a Chronicle’s End. He stops, suddenly. He looks around~

Smith: He know she can’t execute that move on a man of Langston’s size. He’s already tried and failed

Hood: So what’s he going to do?

Smith: I’m not sure

~Canon snares Langston by the head and turns him over~

Smith: Of course! The Canon Cutter!

Hood: Are we sure we didn’t ban finishers in this match?

Smith: Get serious!

~Canon has Langston set up for the Canon Cutter. He spins Langston around. Vincent, though, remains on his feet…he is able to grab Canon’s arms and drop him with a Double Arm DDT!! He rolls Canon over for the pin. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The crowd leaps to their feet! Langston rolls away from Canon. Curt rolls toward the ropes, holding his head…he isn’t fully aware of what’s taken place. On the outside we see Rhodes crawling to the ring, looking over the apron. Syren is still face down, recovering from Shot in the Dark~

Smith: Scars of War! He was able to work his way out of the Canon Cutter and drop Curt with his highly effective finisher!

Hood: What the fuck just happened! The fake legend pinned the real legend? What the fuck is going on?!

Smith: They are the Mix Champions!

~Canon rolls out of the ring, to the floor. Rhodes crawls in, painfully. She heads over to Langston, who is sitting up, breathing heavily. She engulfs the big man in a hug. He looks a bit invaded…but responds in kind. They get to their feet. Rebel raises Langston’s hand. The trophy is brought into the ring~

Smith: What a team! What a tournament!

Hood: I’m so depressed

Smith: It’ll be okay

~Canon finds Syren. He rolls Syren over. Syren’s eyes are open. He looks into the darkening night sky. “Did we fucking lose?” he asks. Canon nods and says, “Yes, I’m sorry.” Syren pats Canon on the back saying “It’s only wrestling.” He sits up. Canon helps Syren to his feet. Rhodes and Langston pause their celebration to look down at the Hall of Fame tag team. Canon appears devastated. Syren glares at the two competitors. He lifts up double middle fingers and tells them to fuck off. He then rubs Canon on the head and exits with his smaller pal. Rhodes shrugs it off. Langston seems a bit more bothered by it. But he, too, returns to the moment. Rhodes and Langston stand on either side of the trophy and they hoist it up into the air. The fans go wild! A “MIX!” chant fills the atmosphere~

Smith: The 2018 Mix Champions! What will they decide, Hood? Will they take the tag titles or will they do battle for an OCW Title shot?

Hood: I’d go with the latter. But given today’s pussified society…they’ll probably team up

Smith: That’s something I’d love to see. A revitalization of the tag team division! Anyway…it’s been a great Margarita mix tournament…a far superior format! Congratulations to all the teams who competed…thank you for making this tournament such a success!

Smith: Ah...there we go...the Mayhem lighting is back to normal. Well, Hood...I...

~The big screen lights up as cameras cut to the road near the amusement park. A limo pulls up and parks adjacent to the park, as the crowd begins to murmur to who might be arriving to Mayhem on the Midway. Several moments the limo does nothing, as the excitement grows. The driver door finally opens as the driver walks to the back and opens the door. Again, nothing for several moments until finally “Wiseguy” Saxon Rowe comes out with a grin ear to ear.~

Hood: Thank god! I thought Rowe was dead!

Smith: Indeed, he dropped off the face of OCW when he lost in the first round of the Margarita Mix. Why has he shown up now?

Hood: Who cares? Let’s rejoice that the Wiseguy is back!

~A chorus of boos radiate the park as he hands the driver a crisp one hundred dollar bill. He nods his head as he goes to the trunk, opens it, and brings out a large object, covered by a black sheet. Rowe motions for the driver to follow as the two begin their way into the park. The cameras cut to the ring area as fans wait for Rowe to appear. Moments go by before “Layla” plays, allowing the fans of Ohio to boo again for the Wiseguy. He appears at the top of the stage, raising his hands and smiling, going down the ramp, his driver following him. He rolls into the ring and takes the large rectangle object from his driver, who leaves immediately. Rowe sets the object in the ring, revealing to be a canvas or picture, but the actual image itself is still covered by the sheet. Rowe is handed a microphone by a stagehand and smirks again before speaking.~

Saxon Rowe: Have you mafucka’s missed me?

~The crowd responds with a resounding boo and “no” chants echo into the night.~

Saxon Rowe: Well good, cause I ain’t missed ya’s either but I bet you’re all probably wondering to yourselves… “hey, why is Rowe here? He’s done diddly shit in like a month?!” Well, here’s the thing… I don’t need to work my ass off week after week to prove I can make impacts and statements, or show I’m the best wrestler on this damn fucking roster. Just take Lost at Sea for example.

~Rowe points to the screen as replays of Rowe’s beating of OCW Hall of Famer the Incredible One is shown. The crowds jeers continue as Rowe nods his head.~

Saxon Rowe: Man, I could never get tired of watching that. But see, this is my point... why I’m here tonight. I show up, and you will all take notice. Honestly, I’ve been busy with the family business and I’d probably would’ve stayed longer had it not been for a particular event that occurred recently. I had to come out to you and talk about it.

~Rowe stops speaking for a moment, clears his throat rather over-the-top, and starts to speak again.~

Saxon Rowe: Tonight, I stand before you to pay respect to a person I never met. A person I never got the pleasure of getting to know and honestly I would’ve if I had been given the chance. Unfortunately I was never given that chance… or was she, because someone cut her life short.

~The crowd stirs, as they had been wondering who Rowe had been speaking of but some had finally figured it out. Rowe grabs the black sheet and rips it off, to reveal a massive portrait of Leslie, TIO’s wife who passed away recently. The fans react in shock, gasps and heavy boos.~

Smith: Oh you’ve got to be kidding me! This is completely tasteless!

Hood: How is this tasteless? The portrait is wonderful and he said he’s paying respects! Give the man a chance!

Smith: Hasn’t he bothered this family enough with his attack on TIO?

Hood: Shut up! I want to hear this man speak!

Saxon Rowe: Yes, I speak of Leslie Bishop. The woman who I think never got a say. The Incredible One says she was the one who made the decision but sometimes you have to wonder about a man like TIO. He most definitely makes the decision in the household. I mean… he has to have a MASSIVE ego, just look at what he calls himself. I bet you if you had asked Leslie herself, without the opinion of that egotistical man, she’d have accepted medical help. Hell, even ask their daughter, I’m sure her opinion wasn’t even heard… just swept under the rug. Wouldn’t she want her mother to have be around for longer?

~Rowe pauses, nodding in agreement to his own words as the crowd can’t believe what they are witnessing.~

Saxon Rowe: Make no mistake about it… based on my understanding of her diagnosis, Leslie was going to perish to cancer, unfortunately. A young, beautiful woman ravaged by an aggressive brain tumour. Now, we all know TIO is made of money, he has said so himself. And even then… I offered to pay for the treatment – IN FULL! I would’ve done it too, because when I say I’m going to do something – I do it. AND HE STILL REFUSED! Is this man so backwards in time he needs to control a woman that much that he renders her life from diagnosis to death to A MONTH? A MONTH!

~Rowe lowers the mic and shakes his head in disgust.~

Saxon Rowe: I am here tonight to pay respects to the woman who didn’t get a chance to say yes, oppressed by a self-absorbed, narcissistic, smug piece of shit. Leslie, I am sorry. I am sorry you are dead now. And I wish I could’ve saved you. I wonder if Leslie even knew about me? Did TIO block Leslie from seeing our encounter? I wonder if Leslie saw I offered help… maybe she would’ve accepted? Maybe even she’d be Mrs.—

~“Who Taught You How to Hate” blasts throughout the park as the crowd jumps to their feet and explodes in cheers for the OCW Hall of Famer. Rowe stops dead in his tracks as he looks up to the stage, awaiting the arrival of the Incredible One. He drops the mic and gets in a defensive position. Moments go by and TIO has yet to appear on the stage. The crowd maintains their excitement but begin to boo immediately as Rowe picks the mic back up and begins to laugh hysterically.~

Saxon Rowe: You all just got fucking baited. Do you actually think he’s going to show his face? He’s not even here! And even if he were here, he wouldn’t have the BALLS to show his face because of the embarrassing beat down he received from yours truly. Leslie is dead…

~While Rowe continues to speak, looking at the ramp and the crowd around that area, a figure wearing a hooded sweater runs through the crowd, hops over the barricade and slides into the ring. The crowd begins to buzz over the mystery person as Rowe continues to speak, unaware anyone has entered the ring.~

Saxon Rowe: …and the career of TIO is dead. Let me finish with one final statement. I KILLED TIO AND TIO KILLED LESLIE!

~Rowe throws the mic down and bows to the crowd. He turns around to grab the portrait but notices the hooded figure standing there, breathing heavily. Rowe freezes as the person raises their hand and takes the hood off, revealing himself to be TIO!~

Smith: YES!

Hood: Oh no… Rowe is fucked now.

~The entire park erupts in cheers as TIO stares Rowe done, not moving a muscle. His hair and beard are untidy and his eyes are blood shot, as if he hasn’t slept in a long time. Rowe hesitates on his movement and TIO lunges forward and tackles Rowe through the ropes and onto the floor. The crowd goes nuts, chanting “TIO” as TIO begins to throw punch after punch at Rowe, who attempts to protect himself from them. TIO gets up and goes for a stiff kick to Rowe in between his legs, showing he isn’t messing around. Rowe screams in pain, holding himself as TIO looks under the ring, and grabs a steel chair. He drives the top of it into Rowe’s ribs. Rowe rolls away and tries to escape but TIO grabs him by the hair and whips him back onto the floor. He takes the chair and smashes it onto Rowe’s forehead. He drills the chair multiple times into Rowe’s ribs again but throwing it away furiously.~

Hood: Someone stop this madman!

Smith: Rowe is getting exactly what he deserves.

Hood: But TIO looks unhinged… insane!

Smith: I will admit TIO looks worse for wear.

~TIO drags Rowe by the feet to another side of the ring and lets him squirm in pain while he brings a table out from underneath the ring and he sets it up. The crowd cheers for the table but TIO largely ignores them, a man on a mission. He reaches into the big pocket of his hooded sweater and brings out a medium sized pouch. He unties it and spills the contents onto the table, revealing them to be thumbtacks! The crowd is in awe as Rowe sees what TIO has done and his eyes are wide, terrified. Rowe attempts to flee through the crowd but TIO follows and grabs him by his hair again, turns him around and chops him in the chest before delivering a piledriver onto the bare ground. Rowe holds his head as TIO lifts him up, Rowe’s body over his shoulders and brings him back to the ring area, dumping him over the barricade. Rowe crawls but TIO grabs him and launches him shoulder first into the steel steps. TIO then drags Rowe by the beard to the table. He positions him and throws him up before driving him back first through the thumbtack laced table by a power bomb.~

Hood: JESUS CHRIST!

Smith: That’s going to leave mark!

Hood: You fucking think so? Great observation!

~Rowe screams in agony as he arches his back, spinning in a circle, kicking his feet around. TIO stares at the chaos he has created. He goes to leave through the crowd again but stops himself halfway. He sits on the barricade for a moment, staring off into space before coming back and grabbing the cable from a camera and wrapping it around Rowe’s neck. He begins to squeeze it tightly, trying to take the air out of Rowe’s lungs. Referees and security from out back rush to ringside and attempt to pry TIO’s grip of the cable but he tightens them and eventually Rowe passes out. TIO pushes the refs away as he grabs a microphone. He leans over Rowe’s body, breathing heavily into the mic before speaking.~

TIO: I’ll see you at Serial Thrillers.

~TIO drops the mic as he leaves via the crowd finally. EMT’s come to ringside, checking on Rowe’s motionless body as cameras cut to commentary.~

Smith: TIO is back! He’s challenged Rowe to a match at Serial Thrillers!

Hood: You don’t fuck with another man’s wife, Smith. Especially when she’s dead

Smith: Yea, that’s true. A harsh way of putting it, but true.

Hood: So Rowe not only wants to face an OCW legend…but he wants to face him when he’s consumed by anger with nothing to lose? There’s no WAY this won’t be entertaining

Smith: It sounds like the perfect set up for Serial Thrillers! It’s been a long time coming…if you’ll remember, Rowe made his debut at Lost at Sea by beating TIO up AFTER interrupting his farewell promo

Hood: Oh I remember…I thought the kid was going to be something after that. He hasn’t done much since

Smith: Nope…but if this match does happen and if he were to win…instant stardom

Hood: This guy is like a homerun hitter with a .100 average. He only swings for the fences

Smith: Haha, indeed! Well…it’s almost Main Event time…so before we get started, let’s take a look at a prelim lineup for our next show, Serial Thrillers

OCW Presents: Serial Thrillers
LIVE! Monday, October 29th 2018
From the Mortuary Haunted House
Located in New Orleans, Louisiana

Savage ChampionshipIggy Hardy (c) vs. TBA

Paradigm ChampionshipAndrea Hernandez (c) vs. TBA

Craze ChampionshipMike Harrison (c) vs. TBA

Grudge MatchThe Incredible One vs. Saxon Rowe

OCW ChampionshipTBA vs. TBA

Smith: That should be a GREAT event. But, before we can turn our attention toward Serial Thrillers...we have one match remaining

Hood: THE CHAMP IS ABOUT TO GRACE US WITH THE PRESENCE

Smith: Mack O'Connor has been waiting for this solo opportunity for so long. Can he take advantage? Can he become a two time OCW Champion? Let's head down to ringside and find out!

~It’s late in the evening. The sun has long since set. The fans are still rowdy, though. The drinks are flowing. They are ready for the main event. An act of blatant symbolism takes place as The Marvel coaster whooshes in the background. The crowd booooos! It’s probably the first time in history fans at a theme park have booed a roller coaster. Belvedere clears his throat and begins to speak~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for our main event of the evening!!

~The crowd leaps to their feet…they go wild! It’s TIME~

Belvedere: This match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the OCW Championship! Introducing first…

~"Vagabond" by the Greenskeepers hits. The crowd is very PRO Mack. O’Connor emerges from the back. He’s without his cane. The wound on his head appears to be all but healed. His face, however, well, it’s sour as always. He makes his way down the entry, ignoring the fans. He reaches the gate and slings it open. Thankfully it’s hinged tight enough to withstand Mack’s belligerence. He reaches the ring, walks up the steps and enters in through the ropes. There is no pomp. Mack merely finds a corner and leans back, awaiting the champ~

Belvedere: From Brooklyn, New York…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 220lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is a current OCW Hall of Famer…he is…Mack O’Connor!!!

~The fans continue to chant ‘MACK!’ despite his best efforts to ignore them. He remains in the corner waiting on the champion~

Smith: Mack looks almost fully healed. This might be the first healthy Mack we’ve seen in 2018

Hood: Guy is definitely old.

Smith: Now why would you say that?

Hood: It’s taken him almost nine months to heal. Old people heal so fucking slow

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

“LA… LA, LA LA… Wait Till I Get My Money Right…”

~BOOOO goes the crowd as the infamous lyrics to the champ’s song ring throughout the ringside area. LIME pyros shoot off from each ring post! A LIME shower of light falls from the entrance. Through it emerges THE CHAMP…Matt Meyhu!! He walks like the champion he is. He struts toward the gate. The fans boo! They try throwing stuff at him, but security is there to shield the champ from any harm. He opens the gate in a much more sophisticated manner than Mack and steps up onto the wooden surface surrounding the ring. He approaches the ring and looks up, at Mack. O’Connor snarls. Meyhu smirks. Matt hustles up the steps and enters in through the ropes. The OCW Title is secured tightly around his waist. He climbs to the middle buckle of the nearest corner and looks out toward the fans. A “FUCK YOU MEYHU” chant begins. He nods and acts as though they are supporting him~

Belvedere: From Chicago, Illinois…standing 6’5 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is the OCW Champion…he is “The Marvel”…he is…MATT MEYHU!!!

~Meyhu unfastens his belt and holds it high in the air! The crowd continues to boo. The boos are so loud that they drown everything around them out. Meyhu hops off the middle buckle and spins around, facing Mack. Belvedere and Scruff stand in the center of the ring. They motion for both competitors to approach~

Smith: The champ is arrogant, as always

Hood: He’s the champ, what else would you expect? Nobody can defeat this man

Smith: Sure they can

Hood: What makes you say that? He has NEVER been pinned since joining OCW. In fact, I think he’s undefeated in singles competition

~Meyhu stands in the center. Mack remains in his corner. Scruff motions for Mack to head that way. Finally Mack shakes his head and complains. He stands up and heads toward the center, face to face with the champ. Meyhu hold the title up for Mack to see. He says, “Remember this, Mack? It’s okay if you don’t. It’s been awhile.” Mack refuses to look at the title. Instead he glares at the champ. Meyhu doesn’t mind. He hands the belt over to Scruff. Belvedere speaks~

Belvedere: Gentlemen, the rules of this match are simple. Neither competitor is allowed to use his finisher. If any man breaks this rule they will be instantly disqualified. And, if the champion is diqualiified for using his finisher the title will change hands.

~The crowd goes “ooohhh!” Meyhu doesn’t seem to mind. He works his arms back and forth, loosening up~

Belvedere: So, just to make sure we’re all clear. Meyhu, you cannot use the Ego Trip in this match. Mack, you are banned from using Claymore AND Hollow Point in this match.

~This fires Mack up. He looks at Belvedere and yells “WHAT THE FUCK!” Meyhu chuckles. He gets into Belvedere’s face. Scruff gets in between Mack and Belvedere. Belvedere, no fan of confrontation, takes the OCW Title and promptly exits the ring. The fans are booing. Meyhu takes a few steps back, ready to begin. Scruff is still trying to keep Mack from going after OCW’s beloved ring announcer~

Hood: The fuck is he so mad about? Is it because Belvedere has more hair in his mustache than Mack has on his head?

Smith: I think it’s because Mack has two moves banned while Meyhu only has one

Hood: So?

Smith: It’s double the blow, Hood

Hood: Well the fucking guy shouldn’t have two finishers

~Scruff is pleading with Mack to calm down. Mack is irate! More so than usual! He shoves Scruff into the ropes. Meyhu shakes his head and points at Mack saying, “So unprofessional.” Mack quickly turns. He kicks Meyhu in the gut and hits him with Hollow Point!!! The crowd goes wild!!! Meyhu stumbles and falls through the ropes, onto the apron! Scruff didn’t see it…not that he could really do anything. He turns and calls for the bell. It rings, the match has begun! The crowd is chanting “YES!”~

Smith: Mack hit Hollow Point!

Hood: That fucking cheater!

Smith: The match hadn’t begun. It’s legal

Hood: You have got to be shitting me

~Scruff finally pays attention and sees Meyhu on the apron. He looks at Mack. Mack just shrugs. This draws a chuckle from the crowd. Mack runs and slides, kicking Meyhu in the back! The champ flies off the apron and lands harshly on the outside. Mack slides underneath the bottom rope and sits atop the apron, sizing up his next move~

Smith: The champ is in trouble, Hood!

Hood: THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS

Smith: If Mack can get Meyhu back in the ring and in a pinning predicament…this could be over

Hood: Why don’t we have instant replay! Somebody needs to overturn this shit

~The champ stumbles to his feet. Mack hops off the apron and drills Meyhu in the head with a stiff right hand. He tosses the dazed champ back into the ring. Mack slides in quickly. The champ gets to his feet, still dazed. Mack pops up and hooks the champ. Scruff yells “WHOA! WHOA!” Mack is going for Claymore…a double armed Rock Bottom. He pulls one arm back, lifts Meyhu up and drops him with a Rock Bottom!!! The ring shakes from impact. The fans are silent. Scruff looks around, confused. Mack drops on top of Meyhu for the pin~

Smith: It was a one armed Rock Bottom…or, well, your standard Rock Bottom. The Claymore uses both arms. It’s a different move

Hood: WEAK ASS

~Mack pounds his fist into the mat. It’s as though he used up his only red shell in Mario Kart. Perhaps he can find a star…or maybe a lightning bolt…or some other cool weapon in a newer version I’ve yet to play (hint – I’m old). After a moment of frustration Mack returns his focus. Meyhu is on his side, propped on his elbow. Mack gets to his feet and throws a stiff kick into the champion’s back. Meyhu arches hi back due to the sharp pain. Mack snares a handful of Matt’s thick hair…perhaps out of jealousy! He pulls the champ to his feet and head butts him in the chin!! Meyhu stumbles into the corner. Mack approaches with clenched fists. He throws several body shots into the ribcage and abdomen of Meyhu. The fans try to keep count but the fists are flying too fast…so after around six they just start cheering. Mack eventually stops and backs away. The champ staggers forward and falls to one knee. Mack reaches back, thrusts forward and blasts Meyhu in the face with a right hook! Meyhu hits the mat~

Smith: Wow! Mack O’Connor has opened a can of tuna on Meyhu!

Hood: A can of tuna?

Smith: I’m trying to find an acceptable euphemism for the usual term

Hood: Fuckin tuna?

~Mack moves for the pin. Meyhu, though, rolls under the ropes, onto the apron and out of the ring. He lands on his feet before falling to the wood surface, preventing a rough landing. The fans boo. Mack reaches the ropes and looks over the top rope, down at the champ, shaking his head in frustration~

Smith: Figures

Hood: What ring awareness by the champ! This man has instincts like no other!

Smith: It was smart, I’ll give him that much…if, albeit, a bit cowardly

Hood: Cowardly? Mack CHEATED and the champ is still conscious by some miracle. What a champion!

~Mack starts to step through the ropes. He pauses. He steps back into the ring, heads for his corner and leans back. The crowd cheers his refusal to head outside. Scruff takes this as a sign to administer a count. He yells out “ONE!” The champion gets to his knees and looks up into the ring. Scruff yells “TWO!” Meyhu stands and looks into the ring while holding his afflicted midsection. Mack stands upright and motions for Meyhu to meet him in the ring. Matt decides to take a walk around the ring. O’Connor shakes his head as if to say “figures”. The fans boo. Scruff yells out “THREE!”~

Smith: Might be a mistake by Mack refusing to head outside

Hood: I think he’s scared of Meyhu

Smith: What?! How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?

Hood: He’s probably sobering up and realizing who he’s facing.

~Scruff yells out “SEVEN!” Meyhu has made an entire lap around the ring, wincing, holding his midsection and rubbing the portion of his head that suffered Mack’s Hollow Point. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Meyhu pauses, knowing he’s got to get into the ring. Mack heads toward that side of the ring, ready. Meyhu yells at Mack to get back. Mack refuses. Scruff yells “NINE!” Meyhu frowns with anger. He’s got no choice. He hops onto the apron. Mack approaches. Meyhu tries to bully his way in with a shoulder but Mack grabs Meyhu by the head and applies a cravat! He yanks Meyhu into the ring with the cravat tightly applied. The fans cheer. Scruff ends the count~

Smith: A cravat? A wrestling hold from Mack O’Connor?

Hood: I mean it’s not much of a wrestling hold. He’s basically just trying to break Meyhu’s neck

Smith: This is for the OCW Championship, Hood. Both competitors should be expected to do whatever it takes to win

~Mack continues applying pressure into his cravat. Meyhu looks painfully annoyed. He reaches up, trying to claw at the face at Mack. O’Connor, realizing Meyhu is close to gouging an eye, spins the champion down and drops him to the mat with a swinging cravat neck breaker!! The champ reaches for his neck and kicks his legs, writhing in pain. Mack sits up and sort of sneers for some reason. I guess because he’s an unhappy individual. He rolls over and tries to pin the champ, placing his elbow in Meyhu’s neck~

1!

Kick Out!

Smith: Not even close

Hood: The champ is getting stronger!

Smith: In a way, sure. But his neck seems to be in a bit of pain

Hood: Yea, since when did Mack start working body parts?

Smith: Since his finishers were banned from the match

~Mack returns to his feet. He stomps on the champ. Meyhu rolls under the ropes, onto the apron. Again, the crowd boos. Mack sticks his foot through the ropes, jamming it into Meyhu’s neck. Matt reaches up and grabs Mack’s foot. He rolls off the apron to the floor, holding onto Mack’s foot. This yanks Mack forward, crotching him into the bottom rope! Mack’s knee also gets bent in an awkward position across the edge of the apron! Mack yells “FUCK!” and pulls his leg back into the ring, after Meyhu lets it go. He holds his knee while also dealing with the pain of battered balls. Meyhu sits up on the outside, rotating his neck, trying to loosen it back up~

Smith: Dastardly move

Hood: You kidding me? That was genius! If you don’t want your leg fucked up, don’t stick your foot where it doesn’t belong

Smith: It would be nice if the champion would remain within the ropes for a prolonged period of time

Hood: Oh, don’t worry…he’s about to grant your wish

~Meyhu stands and rolls back into the ring. His neck is still bothering him. Mack is holding onto his knee. He looks up at Meyhu and yells a bunch of curse words. Meyhu stomps on the foot belonging to Mack’s good leg preventing O’Connor from moving away. He reaches down and snares it. He holds Mack’s good leg and comes smashing down with an elbow across it. Mack tries to act like it doesn’t hurt. He keeps his hands wrapped around his bad knee. Meyhu pops back to his feet and drops a second elbow across Mack’s good knee. The former champ grimaces but does his best to keep his bad knee away from the Meyhu~

Smith: Meyhu is targeting the good leg. He’s trying to cripple Mack!

Hood: Mack’s already crippled

Smith: And what makes you say that?

Hood: He’s bald

~Meyhu retains control of Mack’s good knee. He flips Mack over, hooks the leg under his arm and applies a single leg Boston Crab. Mack finally starts to sell the pain of the good leg. He reaches out, looking for the ropes, but they are just out of reach~

Smith: Nice single leg Boston Crab the champion. Haven’t seen that out of him before

~Mack crawls and fights through the pain. He’s close to the ropes. Meyhu realizes Mack’s bad leg is free. He reaches over, grabs it and locks it under his arm with a full on Boston Crab applied! Mack’s eyes widen! He does his best to keep from yelling…but it’s obvious he’s in excrutiating pain. The increased pain shoots him forward as he lunges and snares the bottom rope! Meyhu retains the hold. Scruff counts. Meyhu releases at the count of five. The fans boo. Mack slides under the bottom rope and lays on the apron holding both knees. The Marvel stands in the middle of the ring and holds his arms out like a conquering hero. The boos intensify~

Smith: What a jerk!

Hood: He looks good, Smith. I think this match is just about over. Who needs a finisher, right?

Smith: Don’t count Mack out…he’s one of the best we’ve ever seen step into an OCW ring

Hood: Blah blah blah…he also has no legs

~Meyhu returns his focus where it belongs, on the challenger. He pulls Mack through the ropes and drags the ailing man to his feet. Mack limps severely. Meyhu hooks him for Ego Trip. The crowd yells and screams. Scruff steps in, reminding Meyhu of the stip. Meyhu hesitates…he’s caught in the moment, his in ring instincts took over for a second. He flips Mack around and drops him with THE STROKE!! He rolls Mack over and makes a cover~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP!

Smith: What an insult! If Meyhu had pinned Mack using Chad Vargas’ move…I might have puked

Hood: Yea, the food around here is kinda dodgy

Smith: Poor Mack…he can’t even kick out. His legs are so beat up

Hood: Bald, crippled…no wonder the guy drinks so heavily

~Meyhu snares Mack’s bad leg and gets to his feet. Mack is forced to his feet as well. He’s hopping gingerly on his not as bad but still damaged knee. Meyhu has the longtime injured leg of Mack’s in his left hand. He throws a punch at the knee. It connects. He throws another. And another. Meyhu starts to taunt Mack. He showboats toward the crowd. He throws another punch at the wounded knee. Mack blocks it! Mack throws a right hand while on one leg drills Meyhu in the face!! Meyhu is stunned. He spins around. Mack rolls him up, Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: Mack nearly claimed the OCW title for the second time in his career!

Hood: I’m telling you…nobody can pin the Marvel! NOBODY

Smith: Until it happens it’s hard to argue that point

~Meyhu is back to his feet, quickly. Mack is struggling to get to his. He finally does, limping…putting most of his weight on the slightly damaged leg. Meyhu throws a vicious lariat. Mack ducks. Mack snares Meyhu’s head in another cravat! He swings Meyhu to the canvas with another swinging cravat neckbreaker! Meyhu grabs his neck, kicking his legs. Mack crawls over, grabs the head of Meyhu, sits Meyhu up and bends Meyhu’s head to the side, yanking and stretching his neck. The champion winces…he reaches out for ropes that aren’t there. Scruff gets into position to see if Meyhu wants to give it up~

Smith: Mack going back to work on the champ’s neck…a smart strategy

Hood: It’s a good thing Meyhu’s neck is stronger than most men’s legs

Smith: I doubt that

Hood: Oh it’s true

~Meyhu’s neck may be wounded…but he’s still got some powerful legs. He proves this by fighting to one knee. Mack tries to crank the neck harder. But this pisses Meyhu off. The champ fights to his feet. Mack bends the neck as hard as he’s able. Meyhu reaches up…he grabs Mack by the ears and drops onto his ass with a jawbreaker!! Mack stumbles back, releasing his hold, into a corner. Meyhu gets to his feet and stumbles into the corner opposite Mack. He reaches up, rubbing his neck~

Smith: Great jawbreaker by the champ…I may not like him but dang it..he’s a heck of a wrestler

Hood: I always hated eating jawbreakers as a kid. What was the point, really? We don’t sell those in this theme park, I hope

Smith: I saw a few

Hood: SERIOUSLY…fucking Zybala

~Mack straightens up, rubbing his jaw. He’s had his jaw smacked before. It’s nothing to cry about. He clinches his fist and charges toward Meyhu. His knee gives! Mack falls to one knee in the middle of the ring, wounded. The Marvel, having witnessed Mack’s falter, stands upright with supreme confidence. His neck appears to be of little concern at this point. He struts over, taunting the crowd while looking down at Mack. He stands over O’Connor. Mack lunges up with a low blow!!! The Marvel drops to one knee. Mack rises up on his knees. They are face to face. Mack grabs Meyhu by his thick hair and delivers a vicious head butt! He follows that up with several massive right hands into the forehead of the champ!! Meyhu tries to fall over but Mack’s grip of his hair keeps him on his knees. He continues to batter away at the champ’s head. We see a slit open up on Meyhu’s forehead. Mack’s knuckles are finding their way beyond Meyhu’s skin, nearing his skull. The crowd is going wild…a “FUCK HIM UP, MACK FUCK HIM UP!” chant can be made out~

Smith: Mack O’Connor is going to destroy the champion!

Hood: The Marvel is in the middle of producing, directing and potentially starring in a movie! NOT IN THE FACE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY…NOT IN THE FUCKING FACE

Smith: Too late…Mack is going to do whatever it takes to finally knock this pompous jerk off his preordained throne

~Mack pounds Meyhu until his arm seems to give out. He lets go of the Marvel’s bloodied head. Meyhu falls to his side, limp. Mack holds his right shoulder. It aches and throbs with the pain of being severely overworked. He shakes his hand and looks at the knuckles. They are bruised, covered in blood and bleeding themselves. He works his fingers in and out, bringing some feeling back into the necessary appendage. He then shoves Meyhu onto his back and goes for the cover~

1!

2!

3…KICK OUT

Smith: Dang it!

Hood: If anybody were to ask Tiffany she’d confirm that Matt is, indeed, hard headed. It certainly paid off there!

Smith: Pure instinct, most likely. Mack is going to have to nearly kill this man to pin him, I believe

Hood: And even if he did kill him it may not be enough

Smith: Don’t be ridiculous

~Mack grabs Meyhu by the ears and yells at him. He’s furious. He’s frustrated. WHY WON’T THIS MAN STAY DOWN?! He leans forward with a HUGE head butt. The skull on skull contact is heard throughout the arena. Fans are sickened by the noise. Mack leans back after contact. He reaches for his head, dazed. We see some blood begin to run down his nose from a cut at the top of his head. He leans further back, propped up on his elbow. His eyes are dazed. It’s clear that head butt took something out of him~

Smith: That remains to be seen. The champ is still a bloody mess. He’s ripe for the picking

Hood: Like a green banana?

Smith: I have no idea

~O’Connor returns to his feet. He staggers into the ropes, continuing to shake his head. He reaches up and finds the cut on his head. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen or felt before. It’s not going to prevent him from doing what he does best. It’s more of an annoyance than anything else. He wipes the blood off his hand, onto his jeans. He refocuses. The Marvel is on his side. Blood is leaking off his face, onto the mat. Mack looks down at his legs. He bends the knees. They feel okay. The man has learned to live with bad legs, apparently. Meyhu is on all fours. He doesn’t appear to know where he’s at…what he’s doing. Mack stumbles forward with a severe limp. He throws a kick with his decent leg at Meyhu’s head. The Marvel catches his leg!! Mack falls straight to the mat, having to use his bad leg for full support. The Marvel, with Mack’s leg, gets to his feet, spins around, grabs his other leg and slaps on a Figure Four!!! The crowd starts to boo! Meyhu uses both elbows to keep his shoulders from the mat. He applies pressure onto both Mack’s knees with the primary pressure focusing on the bad leg. Mack yells out “FUCK!” He’s pissed and in pain. He reaches around for the ropes. He’s near the center of the ring. Scruff slides in, asking Mack if he wants to give it up. Mack glares at Scruff. So, Scruff stops asking~

Smith: Mack would rather lose a knee than quit. He said it himself…he’s not going to leave Meyhu alone. He will forever be a thorn in The Marvel’s side

Hood: Makes sense because after this match he won’t have any legs so Meyhu’s ribcage is about as high as Mack will be able to reach

Smith: Rude and uncalled for

~Meyhu does what he can to increase the pressure. Mack grimaces and grinds his teeth. The cavalcade of curse words flying from his mouth is impressive. He picks up his breathing. He watches Meyhu. Meyhu leans in to punch Mack’s knee. Mack takes this opportunity to reach for Meyhu’s hair. Meyhu notices and rears back. This throws Meyhu’s base off. Mack rotates violently to the side, flipping Meyhu over and reversing the submission! Meyhu yells and reaches for the ropes. He drags Mack along the canvas, snaring the bottom rope. Scruff comes in and untangles their legs. Mack crawls toward the opposite ropes, pulling himself to his feet. Meyhu turns over, facing Mack…he’s on the mat, leaning up against the bottom rope~

Smith: Great reversal by Mack!

Hood: I get the feeling when Mack does shit like that…he doesn’t do it because he knows exactly what he’s doing…he’s just seen it done on TV

Smith: Whatever works, Hood

~Mack staggers and stumbles toward the center of the ring. He yells at Meyhu to get up. The crowd cheers! Meyhu looks at Mack, perplexed. He’s done so much to this man’s body yet he keeps getting up. Meyhu pulls himself up using the top rope and leans against the ropes for support. He shakes his head thinking Mack is crazy. Mack puts up his fists and calls Meyhu out once again. The crowd is going wild~

Smith: Say what you want about Mack O’Connor…and there’s a lot to be said…but he’s without a doubt one of if not THE toughest wrestler this company has ever seen

Hood: Guy can take a beating…but what about the champ? He’s the one gushing blood

Smith: He’s not bad

Hood: Fuck you

~Meyhu throws his hand at Mack and steps through the ropes. The fans BOOOO! Mack smirks and calls Meyhu a ‘pussy’. Meyhu is on the apron, about to hop down. Mack hobbles over quickly. He grabs Meyhu by the hair and drops to the mat snapping the back of Meyhu’s neck across the top rope!! The champ falls to the apron and lands on the outside! The fans go wild! Mack rolls under the bottom rope and sits atop the apron before gingerly landing on the outside. The champ is on the ground, holding his neck~

Smith: The champs neck! It might be seriously injured after that!

Hood: Is Mack trying to take this company down? First he sells off the Paradigm title and now this? Now he’s trying to cripple the greatest wrestler in the history of OCW?!

Smith: He’s trying to reclaim the OCW Title, Hood.

Hood: So attempted homicide is okay, in your book?

Smith: I never said that!

~Mack snares Meyhu by the hair and tosses him back into the ring. He rolls underneath the ropes back inside as well. Mack struggles to his feet. He yanks Meyhu up and reapplies the cravat. Scruff asks Meyhu if he wants to give it up. Blood flies everywhere as Meyhu shakes his head “NO”. Mack secures a deep cravat. He then lifts Meyhu up and drops him with a Cravat Suplex!!! Meyhu hits hard and instantly grabs his neck. Mack back slides into a corner and pulls himself up. His face shows discomfort which probably means his legs are in a lot of pain~

Smith: A cravat suplex! That might be it for the champ

Hood: I think Mack’s faking it

Smith: Why would you say that?

Hood: Because he just suplexed a two hundred and fifty pound man. No way his knees are in THAT bad a shape

Smith: Adrenaline will push people to do some extraordinary things

~Mack stumbles toward Meyhu and pulls him up. He slugs Meyhu in the gut with a fist. Meyhu doubles over. Mack secures the champion’s waist. Lifts him up and drops him with a Piledriver!!! The crowd goes wild!! The champ’s body goes limp. Mack grimaces, reaching for his knee. He fights through the pain and makes the cover~

~Mack shakes his head and glares at Scruff. He believes it was three. Scruff holds up two fingers. Mack smacks the mat and returns to his feet. The belligerent Hall of Famer knows he’s on the precipice of doing something extraordinary. He grabs Meyhu by the hair and pulls him back to his feet. Again he slugs the champ in the stomach. Meyhu doubles over. Mack hooks him for a Piledriver…however, instead of hooking Meyhu’s waist…he modifies his arms into the setup for a GOTCH Piledriver~

Smith: A Gotch Piledriver! This will completely compress Meyhu’s vertebrae. He will be temporarily paralyzed if Mack executes this move

Hood: THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS

Smith: C’mon, Mack! You can do it! This is your moment!

~Meyhu suddenly drops to his knees and he wraps his arms around Mack’s legs. It appears to be a plea for mercy. The fans BOOOO. Mack looks down and shakes his head. He yells “GET UP!” Meyhu remains down with his forehead on the mat. Mack turns to look at Scruff. Scruff checks on Meyhu. Mack looks out to the crowd and yells “SOME CHAMPION!”~

Smith: The champ is begging for mercy! Call the match!

Hood: No he’s not…I think he saw that Mack’s shoes were untied and decided to tie them together so he wouldn’t trip

Smith: Yea, right

Hood: Even in the midst of battle Meyhu shows class. What a champ!

~Meyhu suddenly thrusts his arm up for a low blow. But Mack steps back, dodging the shot. Meyhu’s arm finds nothing. He’s left on his knees with his arm up, having missed entirely. Mack shakes his head, too smart to fall for that again. He steps up. Meyhu gets to his feet with his hands in the air asking Mack to hold on. Mack throws a right haymaker. Meyhu ducks! Mack spins around…Meyhu rolls him up! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!

NO! Shoulder up!!!

Smith: He got the shoulder up! He may not be able to kick out…but he can still get his shoulders up!

Hood: Son of a WHORE

Smith: Not every mother is a lady of the night, Hood

Hood: Did I say sons of whores? I say son of a whore!

~Meyhu is on his knees. Mack rolls to the ropes and onto the apron. He struggles to his feet. Meyhu works his way up. He staggers a bit…woozy from the blood loss and neck trauma. He rotates his neck a bit, loosening it up. He focuses and rushes toward Mack. Mack grabs him and drops to the apron, snapping Meyhu’s neck across the top rope a second time! Meyhu’s body jars from shock. He stumbles back, frozen…almost paralyzed. Mack lands on the apron and rolls back into the ring. He gets to his feet, slowly. He slugs Meyhu in the gut again. He goes for the Gotch Pilediver~

Smith: Gotch Piledriver!

Hood: FUCK

~Mack lifts Meyhu. But his knee buckles. Meyhu falls to the mat. Mack still has Meyhu hooked. He tries again. But Meyhu reverses! Meyhu stands up with Mack draped over his back. Meyhu heads for a corner and slings Mack into the top buckle with an Alabama Slam!!! Mack stumbles out of the corner toward Meyhu. Meyhu rolls him up with a Small Package! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Kic…3!!!!

~The bell rings! The crowd BOOOOOS~

Smith: What happened?

Hood: Meyhu won! Meyhu won!

Smith: I thought Mack was going to kick out

Hood: He couldn’t…his fucking knee is fucked!

Smith: NOOO!

Belvedere: The winner of this match….AND STILL OCW CHAMPION…“THE MARVEL” MATT MEYHU!!!!!

Smith: That jerk…I can’t believe it. Not again!

Hood: And the beat goes on, my friend

Smith: What does Mack have to do to beat this man?

Hood: Transfer his soul into a different body, most likely

~Meyhu rolls out of the ring. He’s clutching his neck. It’s severely injured. He’s handed his OCW Title by Scruff. Meyhu staggers and stumbles away from the ring. His face is still crimsoned from the head wound. Mack, meanwhile, sits in the ring. He looks down at his bad knee and yells “FUCK!” It’s failed him again. He stares at Meyhu, furious. Meyhu, locking eyes with Mack smiles and raises his title high in the air. It only lasts for a moment as the sharp, spike like pain of his injured neck forces him to bring his arm back down. He turns and hurries through the gate to the back~

Smith: He keeps narrowly escaping defeat. Someone is going to defeat this man and I think it’s going to happen soon…at least I hope

Hood: Look…Mack is the best we go, challenger wise. So you might as well just get used to it. Matt Meyhu…champion for life!

Smith: You’re gonna make me sick!

~The crowd applauds Mack’s effort. He rolls toward the side of the ring, under the ropes and sits atop the apron. He looks out to the crowd as they continue to cheer. He tells them to fuck off. He’s not in the mood for moral victories~

Smith: Mack doesn’t really care for the fans. And the fans usually don’t care for Mack…but in this case, they were pulling for him

Hood: I have to hand it to Mack…who the fuck wants a moral victory? Fuck that shit

Smith: I think it’s a classy showing by our fans. Mack gave it the best he’s got and deserves a standing ovation. Sure, he didn’t win…but in my eyes, he didn’t exactly lose, either

Hood: What the fuck does that even mean?

~Mack heads toward the gate. He’s limping pretty severely. He throws the gate up and heads toward the curtain. He shakes his head, still pissed off. He exits the ringside area~

Smith: I have to wonder…is this the end of Mack O’Connor’s main event run in OCW?

Hood: Why would you wonder that?

Smith: That’s two shots in a row he’s come up short…extremely short…narrowly short…but short nonetheless. What is next for the challenger?

Hood: He’s too good to give up. Guy should probably get that fucking knee all fixed up and give it another go.

Smith: But you said he couldn’t beat Meyhu

Hood: People catch the flu from time to time. You never know, Smith

Smith: I guess…well folks, that’s does it for Mayhem on the Midway! We hope you all had a great time tonight! For those of you watching at home, enjoy the rest of your evening. For those of you here at the park…you’ve got three hours until closing…so go out, ride some rides and have a great time…but please, remember to drive responsibly on your way home

Hood: Or don’t, who cares!

~The crowd goes wild~

Smith: Geez…don’t’ listen to Hood, everyone. Anyway…for Hood I’m Smith saying so long…we’ll see you next Monday back in Key West for Massacre!